If Love Were Only Part of the Equation
by K'Arthur
Summary: -Story has been discontinued and is currently being rewritten under the title 'Rise from Ashes'-
1. Prologue

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation**_

**Prologue**

The light of the Blue Star seemed unusually bright that night. Sleek, blue-white rays permeated through the small opening at the front of the tent, dancing on Lycasa's face and keeping her awake. Strange shadows raced above her, keeping her briefly entertained as she tried to make pictures out of them. Bored and tired (but not particularly sleepy) she rolled over and looked at the empty side of the bedroll where her husband Cigol should have been, had he not been on watch.

Sighing to herself and wishing she could doze off, she looked over in the far end of the tent where their children slept. She smiled fondly at their small forms in the dark; _it seemed just yesterday that they were born._ She would occasionally admit that she missed the days when they were infants, but seeing how much they had grown—especially how many new things they had learned and skills they had developed in their short lives—made her proud. She knew that once they were old enough, they would both become strong leaders of their tribe.

Perhaps it was her motherly instincts calling her to get up and look at them closer, or perhaps it was her own restlessness, but she nearly floated across the earthen floor and kneeled next to them. Looking down at her son, a small smile of pride grew on her face. He was their first-born, though only by moments. She brushed aside a stray lock of his thick red-brown hair. He kept it in the style of the men in the village—long and adorned with a ceremonial plait and ribbons. His single braid worn to the left side of his face let the world know he would some day be a warrior, and the red and blue ribbons woven into it were his tribal colors which he wore with pride.

She sat for a moment and thought about just how much he had grown in all of his ten years. He was an exceptionally bright child; he had mastered the language of the tribe _and _the language of the surrounding villages at an age younger than usual. Lately, with the guidance of his father, he had become quite proficient with a bow. It had been his arrow that brought down the springbuck the day before, and the entire tribe had eaten well that night.

She smiled thinking how his small stature would prevent him from ever being a great swordsman, but he did not seem to mind this fact. (She certainly did not—best to fight at a distance than up close in your enemy's face!)She was impressed at how he was mature enough to accept his shortcomings and focus on his talents. _And he is Gifted with the powers of the storms; he will make quite a formidable opponent to his enemies, especially when he masters controlling it._

With that thought, she turned to look at her daughter, and sighed. Although twins, they had such different features, it was hard to even notice the relation. The only common traits they shared were their small frames and kindly shaped faces. _It's strange they are twins yet she looks like me and he resembles Cigol so much. Except that hair. I don't know where that girl got that hair! _Lycasa studied the girl's bright red-orange locks that had earned her the nickname Firetop. _Such an odd combination—orange hair and blue-green eyes. _Her son had inherited his father's charismatic brown eyes, while Firetop held her gentle blue—but with a strange touch of green. _And that Gift of hers…how strange is that one! A Gift or a Curse?_

Lycasa rubbed her eyes the way she had many times while considering her daughter's predicament. The girl's Gift wasn't elemental like her brother's, but tied to her emotions. A respected mage from a nearby village had called the girl an Empath. What that word meant Lycasa didn't really know, but as she understood it, whatever the girl was feeling (or whomever she was touching was feeling) was changed in her body into some kind of tangible force. This force could then be channeled into another person, but strangely enough the girl could not use it on herself. While this Gift could have its benefits—such as a tender thought and pat healing a wound—it was also possible that with a loss of temper, of control, the child could drop a man twice her size with a casual touch and an angry feeling. _But the price is too high for using such magic—a temporary drain on her life-force._

It had almost happened once—fortunately with her brother and not someone else's child—and _must_ never happen again. While playing just a few years ago, she had gotten mad at him and grabbed his arm, as siblings do. The force that coursed through him knocked him out for a good hour, and she was ill and exhausted for days. Hence she was forced to wear soft leather gloves whenever in the company of others, and she always kept them no more than a hand span's distance—even in her sleep.

On top of this challenge of raising the girl known to neighboring tribes as 'The Death Child,' the poor girl always seemed distracted; while her brother would concentrate on the chores that were assigned to him, she would daydream or even sometimes just wander off. Lycasa and Cigol had spent too many days and nights riding the surrounding woods worried sick about their daughter. But some way, some how, even if she stayed out overnight, the girl survived without even a scratch on her. "Althena is watching that one," Cigol had told her after it happened the second time, and he was right. These 'walkabouts' still made Lycasa anxious though; no amount of faith in Althena, or any deity for that matter, could truly still a mother's fears. However, no amount of punishment had been able to deter this behavior, and it exasperated the tribe and the family to no end.

A noise outside dragged her out of her thoughts—the sound of a whistle. Once. Twice. Three times. _Intruders!_ Instinctively, she grabbed her bow from near her bed and started to head out of the tent. A moment of intuition stopped her as she looked back at her son, who was now awake as well. As her placid blue eyes locked with his deep brown ones, a wave of unpleasantness swept through her mind. She put her bow down and knelt next to him, speaking softly, "Stay here. Wrap yourself in blankets, and hide your sister and yourself. Do not come out until morning. Your father and I love you. Do not forget that!"

The child looked at his mother strangely. Intruders were a common occurrence on the Prairie, but never before had she made such a request of him; never before had he seen that look of pleading in her eyes. He nodded, something telling him not to ask any questions. She forced a smile at him, trying to offer some comfort, and then she pulled a piece of paper out of her tunic and put it in his palm. "Take this. It will guide you." Brushing some of his long auburn hair out of his face, she kissed him on the forehead and said a silent prayer to Althena. With a glance over at the sleeping form of her copper-haired daughter she sighed. As she was turning to leave, he thought he saw her wipe her eyes.

Wasting no time, the child gathered all the blankets from the bedrolls and walked over to the corner in which he and his sister had been sleeping. He started to nudge her, but her eyes were already open; frightened and wide. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but he held a finger to his lips. "Shh…we can't talk. We need to hide."

"Like a game of hide?" asked the fire-haired child, pulling on the gloves she had accepted as almost a second skin.

He thought for a moment. "Yes, like a hiding game. We have to be very quiet and stay under these blankets. We can't go out until the morning."

"But who will find us? You can't play a hiding game if someone isn't looking for you."

He studied her face for a moment, thinking of an answer that would satisfy her. Finally, he managed, rather lamely, "Althena will look for us."

The girl glared at her brother. How dare he suggest something so ridiculous? "Ashu! No really, silly! Who will look for us?"

He grimaced as she called him Ashu. He really did not like that nickname, but then again, who gets to pick what their families call them? Just like many others, his was an accident—when they were babies, she could not pronounce his real name, but only manage to run the middle of it together. Unfortunately it had stuck, but at least no one called him that but her.

Losing his patience, he threw the blankets over her and then wiggled down into them; trying to hide his form in the tangle of wool. The girl started to count playfully, and he lifted his hand to her face, covering her mouth. "Shh!"

The seriousness of his features, or perhaps just the fact that he was touching her stopped her counting. She looked at him with the same eyes he had just seen in his mother and said, "I'm scared, Ashu."

He winced, pulling his hand off her mouth—it felt like a hive of bees had just attacked his palm. Shaking it off, and trying to ignore the sound of shrieks of steel on steel outside, all he could think to reply was, "Me too."


	2. Chapter One

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

Chapter One

_"Love can sometimes be magic. But magic can sometimes...just be an illusion." -Javan_

Mia Ausa was exhausted. She had wanted to plan a large celebration to commemorate the official reopening of the Magic Guild of Vane, but right now it was looking to become a nightmare. With only a week to go before this party (she constantly kept trying to remind herself it was _just_ a party) her Taurean patience had been stretched to it's utmost limit. Between members of her staff (not to name names, mind you) misplacing invitations, ordering the wrong color cloth for the new Premier's robe, and somehow managing to give the musicians the wrong dates, she was wondering if this festival would ever take place. _Details, Mia. Just details, _she kept telling herself. It was not working. She bent over her desk for a moment, her head cradled in her hands, before slowly standing with a soft sigh.

As she stood there, still unaccustomed to her new office, she turned and stared out the window into the distance, allowing herself a moment to be lost in thought. _Four years ago, we would have been in the air. I would have been able to see for miles around. We should be today, but I just wasn't fast enough…or strong enough…._ She shook her head, driving the thought away. It had taken four years—four long and painful years—to restore the once renowned Magic Guild of Vane to even a semblance of its former state. She feared it would never float again; and some part of her always felt guilty about not being able to do more in that respect. Her friends had tried to reassure her—she had done the best she could, and it was a miracle that she had saved what she did. But as always, that seed of doubt sprouted in her mind and for a moment she indulged it; wondering what would have happened if she had been able to keep Vane afloat.

The view from the window reminded her again of how she had yearned to leave the floating city as a child.  She always wished she was not kept so confined—locked away by her mother in a tower of innocence; never allowed to venture to the ground below; always expected to just go to school and learn the ways of the world there at the Guild. She shook her head and chuckled to herself. _How could anyone be expected to learn life through textbooks and teachers?_ The time she was on her Quest, and these four years that had followed provided the greatest instructors and harshest tests of all.  _First confined by my mother, and now by my duties._

An unexpected ray of sunlight broke through the shims of the curtains and filled the room with light for an instant.  Caught in its tender shadow were six small bronze figures mounted on narrow pedestals—three on each side of the tall window.  She smiled as the radiance outlined the skillfully cast features, each mirroring their subjects' expressions with an almost frightening accuracy.  Looking at them her thoughts drifted to her dearest friends; the other Heroes now scattered at different ends of the world. During their Quest she had seen herself grow and learn from each of them. She missed them all terribly, for because of the distance between them, they only managed to get together about once a year. She smiled a little, knowing they would all be coming to the Re-Opening Festival. Those invitations, at least, she knew would arrive safely.  She had handwritten each and personally handed them to the couriers.  With a soft laugh she reached out and lightly touched each of the small statues, memories of their time together filling her heart with an unexpected contentment and providing her with a much-needed diversion.

The first figure was Alex, the ex-Dragonmaster. The sculptor had made him true to form in his Dragon Armor, complete with Althena's sword in his hand. Mia smiled to herself—she always had admired the sorrel haired boy. From watching him lead their group, she learned patience and perseverance. Not once—even when it looked impossible—did he give up. Although he was the youngest of them all, his was always the voice of reason. Invariably kind and forgiving, Alex never once used a cross tone with any of them—even when it was most definitely deserved_.  I wonder if I'll ever learn his self-control. _ She sighed, thinking about what had driven him to finish his Quest; not just saving their world, but his love for Luna—his childhood friend. He had given up his title of Dragonmaster (something he had dreamed of since he was a child) and all the magic that went with it not only for their world, but also for her. _Oh, to love like that..._  

Sitting on the shoulder of the statue was little Nall, Alex's strange pet.  The small white…thing…had seemed so cute when she first saw him, but had proved to be far more than any of them could have suspected.  Who would have ever thought a Dragon could live as something no larger, or more harmless looking, than a farmer's barn cat. _He used to always tell me how cute I was…imagine, a Dragon having a crush on you!_

Naturally, Luna was now his wife, and the small statue seemed to capture her strange mix of sweetness and depth.  Unlike the other figurines, she didn't hold a weapon, but a basket of flowers. _More appropriate for the Goddess incarnate…_It wasn't until the end of the quest that Mia had learned that the blue-haired woman was once the Goddess Althena herself.  Like Alex, Luna too had given up her powers, but she had also surrendered her immortality to remain as a human, and to be with him. _Self Sacrifice for love…it all sounds so romantic…_

Mia secretly found herself wishing she had the compassion and easy going personality she had seen in her friend.  She knew all too well that her own nature was quite different. Through her staff, and more than once when the speaker hadn't noticed her presence, she had overheard that her nickname among many of her people was 'The Ice Princess.' She had wanted to believe that she earned the moniker because of her deadly ice spells, but she had heard the context of it's use too often and soon realized it was more of an insult of her stoic and serious nature. _Well Luna doesn't have a city to rebuild and administrate...  Sometimes… sometimes I wish I didn't either._

She glanced at her statue, standing alone to the right of Luna's.  She had moved it there herself, a few months ago, feeling it best that it be there as far from _his_ as possible.  She turned, ignoring her own cane-holding image as she looked back to the small figures to the window's left.

The smile that had faded began to grow again as she looked at the first of the figures on her left. It was Jessica, her first and her best friend. Depicted in her priestess uniform, and clutching her mace, the ex-student of the Temple of Althena looked as independent and confidant as she did in real life. Utterly un-feminine and with a temper to match the almost cat-like look of her beast ears, she more than held her own during battles. Yet, her other side became evident when she used her gentle Litanies to heal her friends.  It seemed like a strange combination, yet in this amazing young woman, the two gifts seemed to have found a perfect home. 

Mia envied how her blonde haired friend always managed to say exactly what was on her mind—not caring what others thought of her for it. _I wish she wouldn't be so crass sometimes, though…_She smiled as she remembered how her friend hid her true feelings behind a skin of sarcasm—especially her love for Kyle. _I don't miss how they used to fight, though…_

Then there was Kyle. His statue, of course, had to stand next to Jessica's, or Mia would have gotten an earful from her priestess friend.  The once part time thief and full time drunk had since reformed and earned the favor of Jessica's father—thankfully _before_ the two were married. At first Mia did not care for Kyle; he was arrogant and chauvinistic. _Almost as bad as Nash…well…I don't think anyone could be THAT bad…_Butafter traveling with the huge brigand for a few days she began to see his true side—he really did care for Jessica and the rest of them. His swordsmanship rivaled Alex's, and she knew that without his strength they could not have defeated the Magic Emperor. _And how he used to tease Nash!  _

She laughed as she straightened the statue, brushing dust from its base.  Kyle and Jess were well matched, both about as subtle as a horn buck in rut, and about as safe to be around if they were in a bad mood._  Funny, how both their tempers seem to fade away when they realized that they really did love each other….Love… it can be so.. confusing…_

With that thought she turned and looked at the farthest statue of the six, sitting at the extreme left end. Molded into the shape of a rather short young man holding a crossbow, the mere sight of the sculpture made her sigh audibly. Nash. She closed her eyes in quiet remembrance of all the things she had learned from him. Of course, she had known him the longest—practically since they had been children. Although a barely a year older than she, he had amazed the faculty of the Guild numerous times. Most notably when at barely eleven years old he had made it through the Cave of Trials _alone_ by just using his untrained storm magic. Passing this test for entrance into the Magic Guild was a feat in itself, but almost unheard for someone so young with no formal schooling in magic. He had gone on to become one of the top students in the Guild and was soon chosen as the Premier's apprentice. 

Unfortunately, all of his success had gone straight to his head. Since he was attractive (though she would have never admitted that to him then) many of the female students gave him much more attention than he needed, and this became just more food for his ego.  It wasn't long before he'd developed a reputation around the Guild for being an overconfident and conceited flirt. 

Mia frowned for a moment, remembering those early days. Then, during their quest, she had watched him evolve from a self-centered boy to someone who genuinely cared about his friends and the world around him. It had not been an easy transformation—there was a time when his loyalties had been badly tested and he actually turned back to Ghaleon, deceiving the group. While Alex and she were quick to forgive and forget, Jessica and Kyle reserved their pardons until he had proved his himself again. _He truly thought he was going to keep me safe by betraying us... He'd done it… for me.  _With a sigh her thumb again rubbed the cheek of the small statue's face, adding further to the soft shine of polished bronze that it alone of the set showed.

Her brow furrowed as she thought of Nash's secret devotion to her. Everyone accused her of being oblivious to the obvious—_all those months, those years._  A thin smile crossed her face as she recalled the day they finally realized their love for each other—just six months after their adventure when they had gathered in Meribia for Jessica and Kyle's wedding.

Her smile broadened as a glimpse of the event crossed her mind; everything was perfectly planned; everything was beautiful—even the December weather—nothing could have gone wrong that day. _And had it, I don't think anyone would have noticed! _She pressed her hands together as the memory she was searching for surfaced—when Nash finally convinced her to dance with him. She grinned to herself remembering how she kept out right refusing; dancing wasn't her thing and she didn't want to make a fool of herself. Finally, after nearly an hour of him asking, she agreed. She was a horrible dancer, somehow managing to step on his toes at least three times during that one song, but he just smiled. At the end of that one dance, he whispered something into her ear: "I need to tell you something. I love you, Mia…and I don't mean just as a friend…" _Those few words changed everything…_

She looked up at him, surprise etched into her expression as she felt a blush spread across her face.  She caught her breath, unsure of what she was supposed to do or even say.  She released his hands, pulling back from him and walked away as fast as she could, leaving him standing there just staring at the floor as the world seemed to spin around her. Her head spinning, she strode out of the Great Hall and into one of the small sitting rooms. There were a few people there—Luna grabbed her arm and asked if she was all right.

"I'm fine…I just…I just need some air."

Her friend helped her to the doors at the far end of the room and led her onto the balcony, then hit her with a barrage of questions. "Are you sure? You look pale. Did Kyle get you try some of that beer from Nanza? Should I go get someone? A healer?"

Mia shook her head. "No, I just think I need a few minutes alone."

"Alone? Is something wrong? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Luna…please. I appreciate the concern but I just need to be alone right now. I need to think."

Confusion plastered the blue-haired woman's face, but she silently retreated back into the mansion, but didn't shut the door behind her. 

Although it could have been only fifteen minutes, it felt like eons had passed as she stood there staring out into the city, pondering what she should have done. Tears rolled down her face as she realized she was too much of a coward to handle the situation—a situation she had been dreaming of for the better part of six months now. She was nearly frozen to death by the time she heard footsteps—from the shortness of the pace she knew them to be Nash's—approaching from behind. She didn't turn around, but heard them stop at a comfortable distance from her. She heard him almost whisper her name, "Mia?"

She turned to face him then, shivering and trying to wipe her tears with shaking hands. 

"I'm sorry...I should not have sa--"

She cut him off. "No, Nash...I should not have run like that—but I am scared."

He inched closer, "Scared? Of me? I'd never hurt you, Mia."

"No...of how I feel right now."

He shook out the cloak he carried over his arm and offered it to her, but did not speak, although his face showed a mixture of confusion and concern.

She accepted the warm garment gratefully, and pulled it around her shoulders as he held it behind her back. Suddenly—not even a moment later—she turned to face him as she found the strength to say, "I love you, too.  I think… maybe for a long time now."

Gently (almost reverently) he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to him. She could hear his heart racing under his shirt and tunic as she buried her face in his chest—still frightened of the words she just said, and almost terrified of the fact that she'd meant them. She wasn't sure how much time passed as he just held her to him, but then he stepped back and looked down at her, smiling. His hands were shaking—from the cold or all that had transpired in the past twenty minutes, she wasn't sure. He reached down and lifted her chin from his chest and softly touched her cheek. She watched his hand as he raised it and gracefully moved her black hair out of her face. Looking up, she nervously met his gentle, searching eyes. She heard herself whisper, "I've nev—"

He put a finger to her mouth, silencing her. A second later she felt his lips spread over hers, and her eyes leapt open wide. Dazed and strangely relaxed by the kiss, they closed again as she felt a strange new sensation wave through her body.  It was a good feeling—like static electricity running through her and striking her soul. When he finally released her, she embraced him and dizzily wondered when he would kiss her like that again__

Five minutes later when they returned to the party hand in hand, a silly grin on his face and a bright pink blush on hers, Jessica looked at them and winked at her. Mia always wondered just how much her friend knew about what Nash had said to her to cause her to run away. _Knowing Jessica, everything—she probably encouraged him. And from that look she just gave me it was most likely her idea in the first place._

The three days that followed the wedding quickly blended into an impossible mix of happiness, regrets, and confusion for Mia. It was a delightful chaos that seemed to increase with each passing hour.  Again and again she'd sigh in delight at the joy she felt when Nash stood by her, only to feel the world close and darken as she reminded herself that he would soon be leaving again for Vane.  After all, he had been heading every trip to the ruined city since they had resettled in Meribia—bringing it desperately needed tools, supplies, and workers.  Determined to make herself useful, she followed him around to the shops and halls of the port city for the three short days they had together. She wasn't sure if he was pleased, or embarrassed, with her success at getting the otherwise heartless merchants to cut their price an extra ten percent over what his hard bargaining had netted them with just a coy smile.

The night before he left, Lemia insisted he join them for dinner in the small house on Black Rose Street that Mel had given them. The table discussion seemed to lift the spirits of the blonde woman, especially when he said much of the clean up was done and they were planning on starting the renovation the Guild manor this month. Nash mentioned that Artie had returned, and while she certainly wasn't very much of a mage, her abilities as an engineer were greatly appreciated. Mia felt a tinge of slight envy as he told how the eccentric girl everyone in the Guild had avoided was teaching him to read blueprints and understand static and force loads. _Stop it…you're acting like a child…_

Just as dinner ended, Lemia surprised both of them when she took his hands and smiled at him as she spoke. "I'm proud of you, Nash. I know I once said I had lost respect for you, but you have more than gained it back. Thank you for everything you have done for Vane, and for me."

Nash had to collect his senses before responding to the woman. He had been reserved in her presence, knowing full well how she had felt about him, and she had clearly caught him off guard. He stood up and bowed to her, "It's the least I can do. After all, Vane is my home too, Majesty."

She looked to her daughter and gave a wink, then announced she was feeling drained and left them to go to her bedroom.

After the Guildmaster retired (rather early, even considering her illness) they sat together in the living room on a small sofa with his arm comfortably draped around her shoulders. She stayed up with him, talking and sharing their thoughts, as they had the past three days. She was amazed at how natural their conversations seemed now that they were both no longer afraid of each other or themselves. Although most of it was silly, idle 'pass the time' talk, it was all too apparent that they were both avoiding mentioning the inevitable— the sun would have to rise and he would have to leave for Vane.

Finally she found the courage to talk of the subject of _them, _stillastonished at using that word—it made her feel so much less lonely. _It hardly seems fair…letting him go so soon, and alone…_As she reached for his hand—an action that suddenly felt more natural than ever—she whispered, "I wish you didn't have to leave so soon. It just doesn't seem right. I mean, after all it took for us to…admit how we felt and stop avoiding each other…"

He kissed her on the cheek and squeezed her hand, "I know. I hate being away from you…but we need to get Vane rebuilt…and I swore I'd do it. I can't let your mother down again. Soon we'll have a usable building and you can bring her and stay."

Her eyes pleaded with her voice, "How soon do you think that will be?"

"Another month or so, at the most."

"I look forward to it."

"Me too, but now I need to go. It's very late and I need to be able to ride tomorrow. Besides, while your mother has forgiven me for my disloyalty, I don't know how she feels about me…being with you."

"Nash! Don't say that! She just said she admires you. Why would she be angry if…if…I care for you?" __

He was silent for a long moment, but then pulled her closer and gave her one of those soul-melting kisses she had become happily familiar with in the past few days. It was over too quickly, and he stood up, gave her one last hug and bowed respectively as he walked to the door. She called to him, and he turned around, his eyes smiling at her even in the dim lighting

"Yes?"

"Nash…can I ask you a question?" She asked as she walked up to him and took his hands into hers.

"Anything," he whispered, looking over her shoulder, checking to see if they were indeed alone.

"When Ghaleon did whatever he did to my mother, did…did he tell you about it?" He dropped her hands, and she could see the horror of her allegation echo on his face. Disgusted with herself for even suggesting he had a role in the despicable act, she softened it with: "I'm not implying you knew, but I need to find whatever spell he used on that mask so it can be broken." _Oh Nash, I'm so sorry…_

He stared at her for what seemed to be an age before he reached out and touched her shoulder as he met her eyes. Truth rang through his distraught features, and she felt it touch her heart. "Mia, I swear on everything I hold sacred, I had no idea about what he was going to do to your mother.  I didn't even find out until you did."

She hugged him and leaned against him, fighting the tears of self-hatred, but lost the battle. She felt his arms wrap around her, and cursed herself even harder. _I just accused him of the worst kind of treason and now he's comforting me? _

He brushed her hair—a sensation she was quickly learning to enjoy and relax to—and he said gently, "I don't blame you for thinking I did, so don't be angry at yourself, Mia. I can already tell you are."

She wiped her eyes and looked up at him, "I can't believe I did that. I mean, here you are, killing yourself for me and the rest of our city, and I am accusing you of doing such a horrible thing!"

"Shh…Mia, stop it. I hate to see you so upset—especially for little reason."

"But I doubted you. If I love you, I shouldn't doubt you."

He sighed as he hugged her, and whispered into her ear,  "I'll promise you this—the minute I get back to Vane, I will search the Ruins for Ghaleon's spell books. Maybe they can help. He was very meticulous about writing things down. I just need to find where he hid them."

She didn't move or make any attempt to release him from her grasp, so he kissed her on the forehead and rested his chin atop her head.

A few minutes passed, and she had stopped crying, but was just enjoying the warmth and nearness of him. Strange, it seemed…someone who was so distant only three days ago was now this close and this needed. Sadly, she knew he needed to leave—it would be dangerous to travel on such little sleep as he was going to get as it was so she kissed him on the cheek and forced a smile. "You need to get to bed."

He nodded, kissed her hand, and then walked over toward the door. He had started to open it when she asked him, "Nash…one more question…how do you so much about horses and how to ride?  I've watched you, and you seem to possess a kind of skill that goes far beyond natural talent."

He was silent for a minute before he answered her, "My parents kept horses, but that was a long time ago…before they died. I'd rather not talk about it, all right?"

She nodded and watched him disappear out the door and into the night, puzzled by his last statement. _Not talk about it? Is it that painful, Nash?_

Still upset over the last parts of their discussion, she stayed up until dawn, the entire exchange being scrutinized in her mind—every word, every phrase—as she looked for different meaning behind each of them. Was he mad at her? Is that why he didn't kiss her after she…made it seem like he was responsible for her mother's ailment? Why won't he talk to even her about his parents? Did he not trust her anymore? Why did she even ask him about Ghaleon and the mask? Would she lose him now? After it had taken so long to just say those elusive four words? _I love you, Nash…I'm sorry…I hope you forgive me…_

Footsteps approaching behind her snapped her back from her thoughts, and she turned to face her mother. "Mia?" Lemia's voice held the same musical tone she had grown up listening to, if even just a little tired. 

She stood up and turned to face the regal looking woman. "Yes? I must have dozed off out here last night—"

Her mother's tone was benign, but her eyes laughed as she spoke. "And just what were you doing up so late that you fell asleep on the couch?"

"I…was reading." 

Lemia smiled at her as she reached for her daughter's hand, "Did you know that your nose twitches when you lie to me, Mia? I can only guess what is troubling you, but I think I can hit close to the mark."

She reached up and touched her nose—absently checking this strange fact while she felt color rush to her cheeks. 

_Oh Mother, I don't want to burden you with my petty problems…_ "Troubling me? Nothing is wrong, I promise you. I just fell asleep, that's all."

The Guildmaster met her daughter's eyes and said gently, but rather firmly, "And your book…did you read him or just turn his pages?"

Mia's ears felt as if they were on fire. "Mother! I…"

The older woman brushed her blonde hair aside and smiled again. "I know that you care for your friend Nash. I know I once said I lost respect for him, but I said last night that he has gained that back. He is working himself to exhaustion to get our city rebuilt, and with no Guildmaster to help him. It hardly seems fair, don't you think, Mia?"

"Mother—"

"Don't you 'mother' me, child, and don't deny your feelings for that boy—to me, yourself or anyone else. I've been watching you two since the wedding, Mia.  Even a blind woman couldn't miss the looks you two give each other, or a deaf one ignore the whispers she's not supposed to be hearing. Although I have to admit, I expected something to happen between the two of you ages ago, but--"

Mia suddenly found the floor at her feet very interesting as her pale skin burst with color. "Yes Mother, I…love him."

Her mother chuckled again, and reached for her hand. "I know you do. Which brings me to another point, child. I will probably never be able to use magic again, my daughter." She grinned ruefully, "What good is a Guildmaster without magic? I could certainly never defend Vane, nor can I instruct.  It's a rather.. bitter pill to swallow, but I have to be honest and face the truth myself."

Mia's eyes widened and she gripped the hand tighter. "Oh, Mother, don't say that! Ghaleon's curse can be broken! We just haven't found the spell he used on that dreadful mask!  You're Guildmaster of Vane, there is no one else.  You can't be thinking of…."  Her voice trailed off as a worried expression grew in her eyes.

Lemia shook her head adamantly. "You're wrong, Mia.  There is someone else.  I knew you were ready for this when you returned from your Quest, but I held off on it because I didn't want to burden you with it, my daughter. But now, I think there is no choice—and I think it might ease the troubles that kept you up last night. I want you to take over for me, Mia. I want you to be the Guildmaster. I hereby tender my resignation, effective immediately."

Mia watched with dismay and bewilderment as her mother removed the golden necklace she wore and placed it around her own neck. She looked down at it, and felt a supernatural intimacy shine from within it. It seemed simple enough—just the Seal of Vane cast in pure gold and the symbol of her house was encrusted over it in rubies. Yet, as she wore it, she knew something inside her had changed. _I am not ready for this…I am not ready for this…I am not ready for this! _"Mother you can't! Traditions say it has to be passed on when…when…"

"Hush, child. Traditions don't matter if we don't have a city or culture to abide by them in. I am abdicating."  A brief haunted look crossed her face, one quickly replaced with a forced smile.  "I want to retire, and you will not argue with me about it. But there is one thing I want you to do first, Mia. Consider it the last order of my rule."

Mia watched in a daze as her mother got up from the chair and disappeared down the small hall of the house, only to return a minute later reverently holding a tiny velvet box. She felt the object being placed in her hands and, with only a brief glance to the purple container, looked up at her mother, "What's this?"

The blonde woman's smile was as wide as her daughter's eyes as Mia examined the box in her palm. "Something I believe Nash has earned. Granted, there aren't any exams to give him, or boards to sit in on his Thesis until the Guild is properly restored.  But after all he's done for us, and his obvious abilities as a mage---I think we can make an exception.  I believe it would be fitting if you presented this to him once you have returned to Vane. It would be your first official duty as Guildmaster.  Go ahead and open it, Mia."

Mia opened the box and stared upon a delicate gold carving of the Seal of Vane—in the form of a solid gold badge. It was clearly used; but despite its obvious age it still maintained its luster. She picked it up and saw it had been resting on a stack of equally used embroidered patches of the Seal that the Masters commonly wore on their outer most clothing. She whispered, "His Master's Badge?"

"We'll have a new one made for him Vane is rebuilt, if he wishes. But for now he'll have to make due with your father's."

Mia stared at her mother, "My father? You never talk about him." She frowned sadly as she looked again at the badge, not sure what to think.  "Sometimes, sometimes I wonder if he ever existed."

Lemia's eyes closed, "We'll talk about him later, child. You know he…died shortly after your birth, and it isn't something I like to dwell on. But this was his Master's Badge, and it was, and still is, one of honor."

Mia's voice wasn't even a whisper as she said, "I wish I knew him."

The older woman reached for the hand of her now-confused daughter. "I believe you have some duties to attend to in Vane, and I understand there is a caravan leaving in an hour. Hurry and pack your things—and be sure to wear something warm." 

"But your health—"

"I will be fine. I have the best healers in Meribia at my beck and call.  You should know, you and Robin found them for me. Now go get packed."

"Mother—"

"Don't try to argue with me, Mia," she said as she released her daughter's hands. Then she stepped back and smiled at the girl, "I want you to promise me one thing."

"Yes? Anything, Mother."

"I want you to promise that you will be happy. I don't want to see you turn out like me—someone so consumed by her duties that she forgot what was important."

"That's not true, Mother!"

"Yes it is, now promise. And get going!"

"I promise," Mia said as, with a sudden smile, she turned and ran to her bedroom. Gathering her skirt in her hands so she could run faster, all thoughts of decorum were forgotten as she dashed around startled servants in her rush to join the caravan… and Nash.

_How will I tell him?  Will he be happy for me, or upset?_

Mia was packed in less than twenty minutes. With a few hurried good-byes and good lucks from her mother and the servants she left the building and, a heavy pack slung over her back, walked to the plaza in the center of town to find the caravan.

The Caravan was huge, much larger than Mia had expected and she'd had to revise her opinion of Nash's ability to organize, or at least find experts able to do it for him.  The enormous number of laborers and supply wagons she had expected, but it was the presence of the skilled Stonemasons that Mel had been promising for weeks that brought a pleased smile to her face.  Their help was critical as few in Vane had experience in actually building or working in stone.  They were not alone either; here and there, gathered into small groups as though not wanting to be seen with common laborers, were Masters, Journeymen, and apprentices of Meribia's many guildhalls. There were carpenters, stonecutters, masons, roofers, and even a harper or two.  Mel must have called in every favor and debt he could find for them. 

Nash was already astride his horse, giving orders to some of the workers who were leading or riding on carts. He wore a heavy fur cape that seemed to make him look so much older—so much nobler—at least in her eyes.  Hesitating for a moment, horses were still something very new to her and most of Vane's former inhabitants. She walked towards him, and on seeing her approach, he dismounted.

"Mia? I didn't think you'd be up this early, thank you for coming to see us off." He stared at the object around her neck and gasped, "Your mother?! Is she all right?"

She took his hands, "Yes, she's fine. She wants me to…take over for her. She wants to retire. So, I decided that I'm coming with you."

His brown eyes were full of shock as he hesitated in his reply. "Mia, please.  I don't think you really want to see Vane yet.  The damage is still pretty… well, most of the city's still not safe and the towers could fall at any time."

"I don't care… Vane is becoming.. has become.. my responsibility. I have to see it… to know what I've done to it, and what it will take to restore it.  I _am _going, Nash… Now, are you going to be my escort or should I ask someone else?"

With a frustrated sigh, Nash replied; "You didn't do anything but save it, Mia Vane and the rest of us.  Okay, but it's going to be a long, slow trip and you've still not learned to ride a horse.  There aren't any inns along the way, you know.  You're going to have to rough it for a while" 

Mia interrupted him.  "In case you've forgotten, I was on the quest too… and I don't recall sleeping in too many Inns… or complaining all the time about how dirty _my _hair was getting! And I don't need a horse, I can ride with you, or in a cart."  

He gave a shy smile as he spoke, "As romantic as two on a horse is, for an entire day of sharing a saddle might be too much."

"A cart then. There has to be one that isn't full."

He nodded and led her over to one being pulled by oxen and driven by one of the guards of the Guild. She gave a doubtful look at the strange creatures before turning a small smile to the armed guard. Nash chuckled at Mia's reaction to both the animals and their driver. "Darshak is for your protection, since I'll be at the front of the ride."

The guard bowed his head to her as he held the reins and stared at her amulet. "Majesty Mia, it would be an honor to drive you."

Mia smiled at the blonde-haired guard, "Thank you, Darshak." _Do I like that new title? Everyone will call me that soon…It seems…so cold…so formal…_

She had known Darshak forever, remembering how he used to have to chase after her when, at the age of six, had decided to sneak out of her room and explore the palace.  He'd kept her little adventures a secret, and she'd always felt safe around him. _He let me get away with things just like Ghaleon did…when Mother wasn't around…_He wasn't going to be conversationalist Nash was, but he would make the trip safe. She whispered to Nash as she pointed towards the front of the cart, "What are those…things?" 

He smirked, "Oxen. They are quite tame you know, and better than a packhorse on level ground.  They're not as fast as a horse but they're a lot stronger.  Without them we'd never be able to move even a fraction of what we need to Vane--especially the new cornerstones and center beams.  They're really very gentle, and easy to care for."

His voice seemed oddly confident, which was puzzling to Mia since he couldn't have had any more contact in Vane with the huge animals than she'd had.  Which, outside of a medium-rare steak, had been zero.

"If you say so, Nash.  I guess she does look kind of…. Sweet, though not very bright."  An impish smile crossed her face as she whispered to him. "Kind of like someone else I know." A quick kiss on his cheek took any sting from the words.

She watched him blush as the others in the group began catcalling at them. He turned to the men and shouted, "Shut up!" She was amazed when they took his order and busied themselves with final preparations for their departure.

He offered her his hand to help her up into the seat next to Darshak, whispering into her ear: "Oh, and she's a he. I think you may have hurt his feelings." 

She giggled and watched as Nash walked to the back of cart and, tossing her pack into it, fished around for something. He strode back to her and tossed a blanket around her shoulders, winking. "In case you get cold. We need to get going."

The ride was quiet and uneventful, and soon her exhaustion caught up with her and she fell asleep. She wasn't exactly sure how long she slept, but was awakened by the motion of the cart stopping, and the last rays of sunlight dimming over the horizon.

Nash pulled his horse up alongside the cart and nodded behind him. "It's just over the hill. Uhh…the Blue Star is bright enough so I think we can continue on and make it there—if we hurry. Our camp is just outside the city.  It will be just a short walk from there to Vane in the morning."

Something made her shake her head at him and she watched the surprise in his eyes grow as she opened her mouth to explain her action but then closed it and gestured for Nash to pull his horse closer to them.  Looking at her equally shocked driver she nodded to him. "Darshak, help me up onto Nash's horse. We will go in together, Nash--before the caravan. I have to…sense Vane."

The guard climbed out of the cart and helped her down, then lifted her up to Nash, who reached out and pulled her up—setting her just in front of him on the horse's withers.  Taking a tender, if firm, grip about her middle as she grasped onto his tunic, he gently urged the horse forward.  It was only a few minutes at a gentle canter before the two reached the top of the small hill.  After a moment's decent he pulled the horse to a stop and spoke, his voice soft with regret, "We're there, Mia."

In reflex Mia looked up into the sky, looking for the Vane that still lived in her memories. Then, with a wrenching effort, lowered her eyes and stared into the near distance and the still tumbled ruins that littered the field before her.  She couldn't even find words to describe the sight.

Vane had never been a large place, though through it's many centuries it's steady population of two to four hundred mages, teachers, and staff had called it home.  It had always been more a center of learning and administration than a traditional town or city.  A complex of palaces, schools, fountains, and towers, Vane had always been without the more mundane aspects of town or city life.  No fields and, other than a garden or two, no farms.  No noisy guilds of laborers and no smelly cattle pens or pigsties.  Between the city's own magic and that of the faculty there had been little need for more.  Supplies were always delivered to the city's base and transported up to.  But now all that was gone.

Without warning, she released her grip on Nash and swung her skirted leg over the horse's neck, sliding to the ground as she looked out to the quiet remains, her eyes suddenly hollow.

She looked up to him, "Nash… I.. I need to go in first. I have to understand exactly what has happened to Vane. I have to _feel _Vane.  Don't ask me why, I don't know.  I only know I have to do this…alone."

Nash looked back to her as he swung himself down from the horse, tying it to a nearby branch. "No… not alone, Mia.  I'm going with you.  It's not safe."   He paused, looking back to the ruins with open confusion on his face.  "But… something's changed…  The Towers… they're…"

"They're upright!  Nash, I though you said they were about to fall over?"  Watching his mute nod she turned and began walking quickly towards the shattered city.  It was with a small, and very hidden, smile that she heard Nash's footsteps hurry to catch up with her.

As they entered the city Mia headed directly towards the Silver Spire and, except to go around or crawl over fallen walls and rubble, did not stop until the two stood at its base.  As always the strange colors hidden within the Spire's shell drew Mia's eyes to it and, ignoring the sound of Nash's steps behind her, she worked her way to the sealed entrance of the strange tower.

"Mia! Honest, it and the Crystal Tower were both a good 20 degrees off center the last time I was here.  The doors were jammed shut and the Spire looked like it was going to fall over at any moment.  I tried to go in… I could get into the tower but the spire wouldn't let me in.  Even the tunnels were sealed--those that weren't collapsed. I don't understand it… this was a crushed mess last time.  No tunnel, no steps, nothing but smashed rock.  Look, even the foundation is solid again, but there were cracks and flagstones were sticking out everywhere."

Mia nodded absently to Nash, yet it was obvious that she was hearing something other than his words.  She tilted her head as though listening to a faint but familiar voice calling to her from some great distance as she slowly stepped towards the tower's great doors.  Then, in total silence, Mia extended her right hand, palm outward, until it rested just next to but not touching the sealed doorway into the Spire.  Without a sound, the great double doors swung open and a feeling of well being poured out of the tower to surround and fill her.  Suddenly all the doubts and fears that had eaten at her since the fall vanished and Mia was again reminded of who, and what, she was.  Somehow her mother's decision had been heard, and accepted.  Her hand lowered slowly back to her side as she nodded to the closing doors.  "It's okay, Nash.  Everything's been taken care of here and is as it should be.  We can leave the towers alone for now."

Nash turned just in time to see the huge doors swing closed.  He opened his mouth to speak in surprise but, on seeing the expression on Mia's face, closed it without comment.

Mia turned and slowly stepped away from the square, heading towards the manor—the building that had housed most of the Guild, as well as her family.  The sight that greeted them was discouraging.  She headed down the hall towards the Library. _I have to see if the family scroll made it…_The massive doorway had fallen in on itself and they had to carefully pick their way through the rubble, pausing only when Mia reached out to pick up a small roll of cloth that lay next to a large fallen slab of rock next to the entrance.  She recoiled in horror as a withered and skeletal hand was revealed as she lifted what was actually a sleeve, ending under the huge ceiling block.

"NASH!"

He took her by the arm, pulling her away from the grizzly discovery.  "It's okay, Mia…  We…. We're still finding a few that…that didn't make it.  We'll come back later and give him a proper burial.  I promise."  Then, at the end of the short entryway, the two stopped and stared into the interior.  Nash had seen this once before, be even so his expression melted into the same sad set as her own.

Mia looked into the remains of the Library, the great hall that held the most important books and references on every subject known to their world.  The room was in shambles, with fallen racks, crushed volumes, and most heart breaking of all--heavy black soot covering the walls, pillars, and what remained of the ceiling.

"Oh Nash, just look, they're gone… gone forever.  The greatest concentration of knowledge, history, and magic in all of Vane is gone.  In all of Lunar, gone!  The Library is ruined, Nash. We'll never recover all that we've lost, ever!  How can we hope to rebuild Vane without it?  It was the heart of the Guild.  What could have caused the fire?"

"I don't know, Mia.  Maybe one of the reading lamps fell over.  Or someone forgot to put the fire out in one of the fireplaces.  You ordered that all fires be extinguished before the attack, but someone must have missed one of them.  I'm sorry."

It was all too much for her. She grabbed onto his tunic and buried her face in his chest. The action must have startled him because it took him a moment to react. His arms folded around her and pulled her closer as she let her grief rain on him.__

When she finally recomposed herself, she looked up at him and realized that his eyes were glassy. He whispered to her, "I hate to see you so upset, and Vane was my home, too. But I promise, Mia, on my love for you… that we _will_ restore the library and our city."

She didn't even have to nod her understanding—she just hugged him again.

_The damn library…_

Thankfully (or perhaps not) a swift rap on the door pulled her thoughts back into the present. She knew the rhythm of that knock and forced herself to smile, "Come in, Nash."  She turned around as he entered, and her violet eyes scrutinized the man before her who moved towards her as if in a trance. 

Positioning himself far enough from her for his own comfort, he stood rigidly with his hands clenched at his sides, as if he was defending his very life. His long, dark green robe hung on his small frame like a burden he was being forced to carry. She studied his stony countenance for a moment and looked into his dead brown eyes. He asked curtly, "You wished to see me, Majesty Mia?"

She sighed. The air seemed to grow thin around her; she had been dreading this moment since making her decision.  It had felt like an eternity since they'd spoken, but had only been six months.  _Six months? It had only been six months_?  But it was her duty, and not one she could put off any longer. It was with regret that she admitted that the pleasantries they kept up for others the first few weeks after his return from Nerak had died away to nothing.  For six months their relationship had been nothing—or rather less than nothing. What was once there had dissolved to just a plethora of pomp and circumstance, of outward appearance and no inward feeling. _And that… that is my own damn fault!_

"We don't need titles between us, Nash."

Without looking at her he replied, "Yes, Majesty."

Shaking her head, she walked a little closer to him, hoping to at least meet his eyes, but he just held the same Spartan stance. "I have a proposal for you, Nash."

He seemed to flinch at her words but asked with his same overly efficient tone, "Yes, Majesty.  And that would be?"

Frustrated with his indifferent demeanor, she matched his icy voice with her own as she circled around his taught frame. "It has been noticed that you have excelled beyond all of the faculty here during our years of rebuilding. It has also been brought to my attention that you have done quite a bit of work on the actual reconstruction. I greatly appreciate your efforts, as do the citizens of Vane. I also know that you know and support what I want for the Guild and will execute my orders without question. I have spoken with the Council of Elders and we would like to ask you to become our new Premier when the Guild reopens next week."

He bowed deeply, still not giving as much as a glance in her direction.  A look of doubt flickered over his face as he heard her use of 'we' to describe the Council but he said nothing of it. "I would be honored, Majesty Mia."

"The announcement shall be officially made during the Re-Opening Festival. I have already taken the liberty of having the correct robes made for you."

"Thank you, Majesty."

She walked up to him and tried to take his hand, but he would not release his fist to be moved. Sighing again, she tugged at his sleeve. "We're going to be working together. Do you think you could at least pretend you care?"

He looked down at her with clouds of sadness crossing his intense dark eyes under his unkempt auburn hair. "I do care. As I have said for years, I will always protect and honor you, even if it means the destruction of my soul."

She shook her head, a bit satisfied to have his attention but disappointed with his robotic reaction. "That's not what I mean. I mean…these games you play. This walking-death act, for example. What happened to the days when you would smile? When you would shave and style your hair? When you would take your head out of your books for a minute to entertain the world around you?" _When you used to love me…_

His eyes hardened again, as he pulled himself to his full (although slightly below average) height and reached up to scratch at the two day-old stubble on his chin. "I once thought you were naïve, Mia, and I loved you for it. But if you do not understand why I am the way I am then you truly are ignorant. As ignorant I was, once."

Shocked at his words, she stepped back, brushing her black hair off her shoulders. She knew what he meant; this was her fault. To think things would be the same…even six months later, yes…she was ignorant for that. Just like the dances and the kisses they had once shared, everything must come to an end…__

She looked at him through narrowed eyes for an instant, a stern frown suddenly appearing on her face.  The room could not have gotten any colder—even if she had commanded one of her ice storms to sweep through it. "Very well. I look forward to working with you, Nash. You are dismissed."

With a bow of respect, he started to back out of the office. She called to him, her voice wavering somewhere between authoritative and anguished, "And Nash, please shave."__

As he pulled the door behind him, she heard him say, "As you wish, Majesty."__

* * *

Prologue | Index | Chapter Two


	3. Chapter Two

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_ _

Chapter Two

_"Destiny waits alike for the free man as well as for him enslaved by another's might"_

_--__Aeschylus ___

Sabre flung the saddle on the back of Gravitt's horse. Adorned in silver and jewels, the thing weighed nearly as much as she did, but after all these years, she had mastered moving it around well enough. The large bay gelding turned his head to look back at the tiny woman and nuzzled her back as she worked. Smiling, she gently pushed his nose away and pulled the saddle up onto his withers. With an expert hand, she unhooked the cinch from its place on the horn and pushed it over the other side of the animal, then caught it in one motion as it swung towards her. She pulled it snug—not tight—since she did not know when they were leaving and did not want to make the horse uncomfortable any longer than necessary. She took the bridle she was carrying on her shoulder and hung it on the saddle horn. Patting the horse on the neck, she silently wished the good-natured animal would find a way to unseat his rider this time.

She walked back into the barn and retrieved her horse—the last of the five that she had been assigned to prepare for the journey.Her mare (the only thing she actually owned) was a small dapple gray with enough energy to work all day and still have enough spirit to race and win at night.Sabre had named her Matze, which translated to "chasing the hurricane wind" in her native tongue. As she approached, the animal threw her head in a sort of respectful defiance. She looped a lead around the horse's neck and walked her outside, tying her securely to a post near the others.

As she regressed back into the barn to get her tack, Brinson approached her. His dirty blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail, which swished from side to side as he walked. "Any idea where we are going?"

"You know Gravitt doesn't tell me anything."

He shrugged. "Wherever it is, it must be quite a trek—he made me pack almost all of his clothes."

_Either that or he's just going stay awhile at our undisclosed destination_. She hated traveling with Gravitt, but then again, it wasn't like she had a choice. Brinson followed her as she headed back outdoors with saddle and bridle in hand. "I can do that if you want to go get some things together," he offered.

"I've got it, but thanks."

She looked up at the large manor behind her and wondered if Gravitt was watching them; he had a 'thing' about her speaking to other workers—especially Brinson. He liked to remind her that he owned her, and that no other man was to ever touch her—even if they could have.

Noticing her discomfort, Brinson walked away, leaving her with the five horses and the pack mule. Moments later she had completed her task of readying her horse. Tired and thirsty, she walked over to the nearby water tub, cupped her hands, took a refreshing drink and splashed some water on her face. Another reflection suddenly appearing in the water startled her, and she stood up and turned to face Gravitt.

He was a large man; at least a head and a half taller than she and built like an ox. He was handsome, but not in any way that appealed to her. His dark brown hair was always neatly arranged on his head; his clothes always in fashion and neatly pressed. Lately, he had been favoring a tunic, pants and a dark cape. Around his neck hung his family heirloom—a small gold crest with a relief of a tower carved onto it. 

Looking at him, she was (as usual) drawn the part of him that disturbed her the most—his silver eyes. He glared at her for a moment, asserting himself and demeaning her as always, "Good, I see the horses are ready. Go get that bastard son of yours." He smirked at her, "I wouldn't want to travel without insurance."

Her blue-green eyes flashed thoughts at him she would have wanted to say. And three years ago, before her son was born, she would have said them. Now, afraid for the child's life, when he told her to do something, she just did it. She never talked back to him, and she noticed that it drove him insane to see her so complacent. _Probably because he doesn't have an excuse to thrash me now. _She nodded to him as she brushed back some of her bright red-orange hair and turned in the direction of the manor. He watched her go, sneering at her the whole time. She felt his eyes on her, but just continued walking, pretending he wasn't there. 

She looked at the city on the cliff below the manor as she walked. Briggatt, this city, was not her choice of home, but she hadn't had a choice of anything in eleven years. _Cities are too confining. _She remembered how the city had prospered under Ziggrat—Gravitt's father—and shook her head as she gazed down on it now. _So much for the jewelry capital of the world. _Where shops and taverns once stood now was home to a few stray cats and lots of vermin. No one remained in the city; only those who were living in the Manor stayed after Ziggrat's death, and none of them had a choice—they were all both servants and compulsory soldiers in Gravitt's army. She knew why they didn't try to escape; their ruler was too hateful to just kill them. He would make them watch as he massacred their loved ones. _Such is the life of a servant...or a slave..._

_ _

Thinking back, she knew exactly the last time she had made a choice on her own—eleven years ago. It was decision inspired by a feeling—nothing else—to walk outside that tent and let herself be captured. She knew it was she that had they wanted—the Death Child. She hated that name, but those who gave it to her were correct—she could kill a man just with a touch of her hand. She looked down at the thick leather gloves she was required to wear—a curse, not a Gift. 

Gravitt had forced her to use her ability time and time again to take out his rivals. Many people had tried to usurp his rule of cruelty and terror (in both Briggatt and other states he had conquered and destroyed), and rather than fight them in battle (for that was too risky and far too honorable) he made her do his dirty work. To ensure the job was done to his satisfaction, he would hold the life of her child over her head. Not once did she want to commit murder, but she always did it in the most humane way she could; thoughts of sadness, which would cause her victim to sleep and never wake up. Still, even after all of the people she had killed in Gravitt's name, the deaths affected her in the same way as the first had—she always threw up, even if she had not eaten anything all day—and she knew it was not just from the drain on her life-force.

Now she entered the room where her son was…her son…and Gravitt's. She hated how he referred to the child as 'your bastard son' when in he knew damn well he was the father. "The ruler of Briggatt--the jewelry capital of the world--in a scandal with a tribal tramp! Oh what would the people say?" He had said to her when the boy was born. But most of his staff knew the truth; only someone like Gravitt—someone immune to the direct and indirect effects of magic—could have slept with her and survived. _Slept my ass…_She grimaced at the memory of that night; she would have killed him, had she been strong enough. But she was not, and that fact galled her. 

Gently, she nudged the small child. At three years old, he was already starting to show signs of her Gift. Fortunately, he did not look like Gravitt at all, but more resembled her father—large, kindly brown eyes and soft auburn hair. She had not told him who his father was—Gravitt had forbidden it, just as he had forbidden her naming the child in the style of her people or teaching him anything about the Prairie Tribes. But, true to his nature, he always kept the boy close enough to him to get her to do his bidding. He had accomplished this by creating a relationship with the boy and telling him that he was a friend of his deceased father; even going as far as to make up stories about himself and this figment of his imagination to tell the child as bedtime stories. _As if I would ever admit a friendship to him!!_

_ _

The child awoke, staring at his mother and smiling. "We gonna leave soon?"

She nodded.

"Where we going, Mommy?"

"On an adventure," she replied as she looked around for a hat for him. She produced one from a drawer—a dark green one that brought out the color of his eyes. She put it on his head, tying it gently below his chin.

"With Brinson?"

She nodded. Brinson (although always kept at a distance out of fear for his life and hers) was the closest thing she had to a friend, and the closest thing her son had to a father. She knew her son had taken a liking to the blonde-haired man, more so than he had to his so-called good-natured protector. _Probably because of the tone Gravitt uses with me...even a child could not ignore that._

She took her sword off the wall near her bed and fastened it to her back. Although she was only five foot two and weighed about a hundred pounds soaking wet, she had somehow been able to find a sword light enough for her to use effectively. Gravitt had forbidden her to carry a bow from day one—she was too good a shot and it would have been far too easy for her to pick him off when his back was turned.

She picked him up, but he struggled. "Mommy, I can walk. I don't wanna be a baby. I wanna walk like a big boy."

Laughing a little, she put him down and took his hand—also bound in black leather gloves. "All right. Let's hurry, Darian."

When Sabre returned to the tying posts with her son, the others had already mounted up, and Gravitt waved her towards him. She knew exactly what he was going to say—it was the routine when they traveled. "Your son will ride with me. Mount your horse and draw your sword. You're riding scout." Wordlessly, she lifted the boy up to Gravitt. She looked at Brinson, Philip and Marcus—Gravitt's other 'bodyguards.' _Slaves would be more the correct term. _Without a wasted motion, she swung her small frame onto the back of Matze, who pranced impatiently as her rider drew her weapon. 

Riding scout was probably the biggest tease to Sabre; she would ride on ahead for a moment of freedom, but then return to the group and report back any upcoming enemies or rough terrain. She knew Gravitt didn't give her these moments of glory for the most sensible reason—her horse was the fastest—but because with him holding Darian, she was assured to not try and take off. 

As she rode, her sword in one hand and the reins in the other, she tried not to look back, but her concern for her son was always in the front of her mind. While she would gallop on ahead, the others rode at a brisk trot; trying to make time but not tire the horses too much. Philip and Marcus flanked Gravitt, their swords drawn, and Brinson was assigned to bring up the rear and lead the pack mule. _He isn't much of a fighter anyway. _She had loved to travel once in her life, but those days were past her now. Now she was just cannon fodder for a man she hated—a man she would have killed had she been strong enough. She knew he loved to watch her suffer, and she always tried to hide her pain just out of spite. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. She wished she could turn the tables on him—just once.

As she rode ahead of the men, her horse willing yet frustrated at having to slow to trot when returning to the group, pictures of her life seemed to impress themselves into her mind. She had been a happy child—she'd had a mother and father who loved her, and a twin brother who she was always in competition with. Their good-natured contempt always seemed to the catalyst for their learning; each wanting to out perform the other. But no matter how hard she tried, she could not match his skill with a bow, and he could not come close to the almost natural talent she had for riding. 

Her brother and she—in those days when they were together—would always go on riding adventures. Their parents had encouraged this since they were going to need to these skills to survive someday. Armed with their bows and astride two of the most well broke horses, they would venture out into the forests around wherever their tribe had camped. He never managed to acquire the best balance for staying on a horse, and she remembered him falling off continuously. She would laugh at him and call him names—but only after making sure he was all right. Sometimes he would retaliate by throwing a tuft of dirt at her horse, trying to spook it. It never worked because their parents only let them ride the quietest of horses when unsupervised. She knew this frustrated him to no end.

One day, while trying to keep up with her (and yelling at her to slow down) he took a particularly nasty fall. Landing unceremoniously in a mud puddle, he cursed at her as she laughed at him, making her horse dance in the mud to splash him even more. Enraged, he used his Gift to call a clasp of thunder. The noise made her horse rear and then spring forward into a dead run, throwing her forward on its neck, causing her to drop her reins and leaving her to grip the animal's mane to stay on—screaming for dear life.

When their parents heard the thunder and the commotion, they both raced out into the woods to find him still angered and muddy and her clinging to her horse's neck in paralyzed fear as it galloped through the forest, her reins still dangling. Her father ran his horse ahead of hers and reached down to grab her horse's bridle, forcing the animal to stop. Her brother had gotten in quite a bit of trouble for that stunt, but later she said to him, "That was the best ride. I was flying! Ashu! Flying!"She begged him to do it again and again, and promised not to tell. Sometimes he would oblige her, and sometimes he would not. "I don't want to see you get hurt, Sabre," he had said. _Always the practical one, _she thought. Happy memories like this were the only things that kept her going these days—that and Darian. 

As she rode back to the group with the latest report of 'all clear,' Gravitt whistled, the party's signal to turn around and face him. She rode into the circle of them, brushing wisps of her copper hair out of her face as he spoke. "I am guessing you are wondering where we are going." 

She scowled. _Well yes, that information would help, asshole. Especially when I'm riding scout._

He seemed to read her mind, and shot her a dirty look, but continued. "We are heading north, approximately one more day to Vane. I have received an invitation to attend the Re-Opening Ceremony for the Magic Guild." 

_Oh there's irony—the man who is immune to magic going to the center for mages and wizards everywhere._

_ _

"We will ride through the night and arrive tomorrow afternoon. First of all, remove any insignia of your pathetic and conquered tribes." 

Silently, all four of his companions pulled out their plaits, and forlornly dropped their colored ribbons to the ground. 

"Now that we have that annoying detail out of the way, we need to establish associations, since I don't think I would be made welcome riding into such an educated town with our respective current relationships." 

He nodded to Brinson, Philip and Marcus. "You three are my trusted business associates and friends. We are all jewelry traders who live and work in Briggatt. We will be allies in public at all times." The three men looked between each other and nodded in a submissive understanding. 

_He will have to treat them as equals now!_

_ _

Sabre's momentary elation was crushed in a second when he said to her, his eyes flashing steel behind them, "And you, my little flare-haired wench...you are my sister-in-law. Your husband is dead and I am, in my infinite good nature, a caring for you and your child." 

_Son of a bitch...I will never claim you as blood! _

Her reaction must have carried too well across her face, for he sneered at her and gently ran a finger under the child's chin. Turning her horse and fighting her tears, she took her place at the front of the party.

In silence, they continued riding to the north as the Blue Star rose into the dark sky, giving a small amount of sinister light to their path._ _

__


	4. Chapter Three

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_ _

Chapter Three

_ _

_"Dragons live forever, but not so little boys..."—Puff the Magic Dragon_

Mia had given some of her staff the order to pack Nash's things for him, but he chased them out and did most of it himself. He was a pack rat by nature, and he would have felt uncomfortable having someone else pawing through his prized possessions or wondering why he'd kept certain things. His closet took awhile, but it wasn't as bad as he'd feared. He had quite a wardrobe since he had saved clothes he didn't wear anymore. The brightly colored tunics he wore as an apprentice were buried in there, including the regal looking purple and black velvet one he only had worn on the most formal of occasions—mostly weddings. Without even bothering to fold it, he threw it in the bottom of a box and piled others on top of it. 

_ _

The robes he had been favoring as of late he handled in the same manner. He did not like them as much as the tailored tunic and pants sets, but it was expected that the faculty of the Guild dress in the correct regalia, no matter how unflattering it might look. Most of them were muted dark colors—greens, blues and browns. He wondered if he really needed all them now—he would be expected to wear the robe of the Premier in public—and Mia had already seen to getting those made. _Might as well take them all...they are comfortable..._

_ _

His desk took the longest to empty and pack, and not just because it was barely visible under his mess of papers and books. He delayed opening the top drawer until last as it was his secret place for special things—fearing the memories the contents would bring back. Finally, after everything else was done, he unlocked it, found a small box in the pile Mia's staff had left in the room, and began to remove the articles from the drawer. Hoping that if he worked quickly, and did not give thought to what he was putting his hands on, he might not stop and think about each one. He was wrong.

The first handful of junk came out—pens with broken nibs, scraps of paper with notes that had served their purpose ages ago—and went in the trash. A few buttons and ties from robes and tunics he no longer owned or couldn't find followed suit. He kept a small key, even though he didn't remember what it went to—just in case. 

Next came a bandana. It was one of the ones he had worn on the Quest, to keep his hair out of his eyes. Wrapped into it was a silver comb—a gift from a girl he did not wish to remember. In those days, he always wanted to look his best, and he never went anywhere without these items. Although the memories were not exactly fond ones, they had been an integral part of his persona at one point, so he put them into the box. _I was so narcissistic._

_ _

Digging into the back of the small drawer he found his oldest possession; a small, dirty scrap of paper folded and refolded so many times that the creases appeared to be engraved into it. He did not need to open it; he knew full well what it was. Carefully, as to not damage it any further, he placed it on top of the bandana.

Another piece of paper buried at the back of the drawer followed. Rolled and tied with a ribbon, half of it had been burned (that was his own fault, he recalled) and for some reason he had kept what he'd manage to salvage. It had been his treasure at one point; he kept it in a pocket of his tunic and carried it wherever he went. He opened it, and smiled for a moment, as he looked the picture of her, innocently bending over to pull on a shoe. He gently rolled it back up, retied the ribbon and put it atop the other riches of the drawer in the small box.

Satisfied he had gotten everything, he put the small box of treasures into a larger one and placed an 'x' on it—to make sure he would be the one to carry it. Finally finished with the ordeal of packing, he wrestled one of his older (and most comforting) robes out of one of the boxes, grabbed his sketchbook, and made his way to the library.

*****

The library was vacant when Nash entered; he made sure of that. Not being in the best moods, he did not want to run into anyone he might have felt obliged to entertain in conversation. He could have gone back to his room, or to his new rooms, but neither felt right. One was too confining and the other was not quite yet official. He just wanted a place to sit—alone, but not with those boxes and in a place he was familiar with. The pile of boxes in his old room made him uncomfortable in a way he just couldn't explain. Perhaps it was the sudden change he was about to make or maybe just the fact that with them, his room seemed more claustrophobic than usual. _I just might sleep here, too. I doubt anyone would notice._

_ _

The Library of Vane used to be one of Nash's favorite places. He had been a serious student, quickly moving to the top of his class and gaining the favor of his instructors. Before his Quest, he had spent quite a bit of time in here studying, as far away from his annoying roommate as possible. The original library had been destroyed in the Fall, along with many of the books it once held. Now, the new library (built atop the remains of the original) retained much of the same shape and size, but the lack of books gave it a hollow feeling, making the place look both useless and eerie. He had been assigned to try and replace the works that had been destroyed, and while he managed to restore some, many were so ancient or so unique, no duplicates could be found, no matter how or where he had searched. _Another failure..._

_ _

He settled himself into a huge lazy chair that just emphasized his small frame. He had never been a large person (most of his friends towered over him) and at one point in his life this bothered him, but not now. His instant reflexes and the power of the storms he wielded made up for his lack of athletic ability. He remembered Jessica once saying to him: "You're a skinny little runt with no butt." No one ever accused her of being tactful, that's for sure. _Annoyingly accurate perhaps, but never tactful._

_The next Premier…isn't this what I always wanted? Perhaps at one time…when I thought I could do anything...but now? Can I handle the responsibility? Can I actually run this place? I'm just a month past 21. Can I do it without letting her down—again? _

_ _

In a desperate attempt to distract himself, he flipped open his sketchbook and produced a pencil from behind his ear. Touching pencil to paper, he closed his eyes and just let his hand move. He had always had a touch of artistic tendencies and these days he used them to relax—to just sit and sketch, not really thinking about what he was drawing, just letting his mind and hand connect to create some sort of picture.

A few moments passed and he opened his eyes to see a figure he had drawn over and over—once upon a time. _Just like a fairy tale, but not quite. _It was not detailed, but it did not need to be. He traced a gentle finger along its outline with certain amount of deference. Then his expression hardened and not even a second later, the page had been torn out of the book and the pencil broken. _Idiot._

_ _

Jumping up, mad at himself and frustrated with being temporarily homeless, he looked out the large windows at the front of the library. It was dark now, but he could see the white wall that had been erected around the city after it fell to earth. The Fall had caused tremendous damage; the Grindery did battle with Mia and all the force she could pull out of Vane and the few citizens who remained. Alex, Kyle, Jessica and he had readily allowed her to use their powers, for whatever good they were worth. Even though she broke the magical barrier around the Grindery, all the magic in Vane had not been enough to keep it in the air after it had been hit by Ghaleon's magical weapon. Engulfed in flames, the city had fallen from the sky, sliding a good quarter of a mile once it hit the ground. Miraculously, his group had survived—some of the people who insisted on staying in the city had not been so lucky. _I was so proud of her—she kept our city from being blown to dust..._

Vane had landed on its side, digging a massive trench and, in the process, creating a hill of sorts. They had spent almost six months (and a small fortune) grading the land back flat so that structures could be erected. Fortunately, when word of the Fall of Vane spread, benefactors began sending money, supplies, and workers. Jessica's father, Mel, had been one of the most generous—donating a fleet of workers and resources to build something they desperately needed and had never had before—a wall.

The wall around the city glistened in the darkness. He didn't like it for some reason—it made the place look too ordinary. Vane was supposed to be (and had been) something special; now it just seemed like a typical city. Contained within that generic wall were a few shops, the home of the ruler, and the ever-present din of commerce, construction and repair. For months he had longed for the sounds to return to the silence of study and rush of magic, and it finally looked like this was going to happen—once Mia's staff got the place decorated for the Festival. _Well, it will look the part, at least. _The New Guild would make the difference by restoring the essence that had been Vane to the city—he hoped.

Turning around, he glared at an object set in the middle of the room atop a low pedestal and covered in a rich red velvet cloth with symbol of the house of Ausa embroidered into it. He walked towards it—very, very, slowly—and stared upon it. With a strange type of archaic respect, he lifted the drape and looked upon the object it obscured. Sealed in a glass case, and cushioned upon a backdrop of red and white satin was an ancient piece of paper. This was one of the few things that had survived the Fall; mostly because of the massive tomb in which it was encased. Once a generation, it was removed and another name added to it. He walked over to it and put his hand on the glass. He did not need to read it; he knew those names by heart. Closing his eyes, and letting his hand drop off the case, he thought back to Alex and Luna's wedding—almost two years ago, in July.

Alex and Luna...the perfectly sickening happy couple..._Save the world, get the girl...__and live happily ever after...if only it was that easy...He understood why they waited awhile after the end of their adventure to get married; they were both still quite young compared the rest of the Heroes. Still, when the time had come, their hometown, Burg, had planned quite an elaborate wedding for them, even by small village standards._

The journey there had been hard on Mia—she did not adjust to sea travel well at all. He frowned as he thought of how she had hated that trip; the boat they had to travel on from Meribia seemed to move every which way at night and he would watch with worry as she tried to sleep and just could not. Jessica gave her some herbs to try and help her, but they did little good. She ended up getting sick in the middle of the night and stumbling up to the deck. He followed and held her hair for her while she was being ill over the rail. He stayed up the entire night, making sure she was all right and trying to be of some comfort for her seasickness. He remembered how she made him laugh (after a moment of shock) when she said, "the only cure would be to get off this piece of shit."

A long day and half passed before they had finally made it ashore, her relief at finally setting foot on solid ground again was palatable. Another few days of travel, and they arrived at Burg. He had been here once before, but did not recall much about the place. The villagers greeted them like old friends and he wasn't sure if he liked that or not. When they reached the home of Alex's parents, they were welcomed by him and Luna, and directed to a room upstairs. He must have seemed quite distant, because he distinctly remembered Mia asking if he was all right. Just as he was about to give an answer he had been trying to find the words for over the past few months, she was distracted by Luna calling upstairs asking all of them to come down and see something or other. As she went downstairs, he remained there—making a lame excuse about being tired.

He remained up there all afternoon and evening, not even coming down for dinner. Mia brought him a little something to eat, but he spent more time staring at it than anything. Shortly after nightfall, Kyle and Alex came upstairs, and found him sitting and staring out the small window. They asked him to go with them on some kind of night walk, but he barely responded, giving only a small shake of his head and a soft 'no.' Kyle teased him and Alex begged, but he still flat out refused. Finally, frustrated with both of them, he stood up and (with a particularly nasty glare) ordered them to get out. A split second later, before he could even realize what happened, Kyle effortlessly lifted him off the ground and flung him over his huge shoulder like a sack of potatoes saying, "Looks like you really don't have a choice buddy."

He remembered screaming some sorts of insults, and threatening to shoot a lightning bolt where Kyle would be sure to remember it for a LONG time, but was still carried down the stairs and past the kitchen where the women were sitting. "We're borrowing him for a little while, Mia. Don't worry...we'll bring him back in one piece, well... we'll try!" Kyle called out with a laugh and as everyone joined in, the large man carried the small (and beyond irate) mage outdoors.

Kyle returned Nash to his feet in front of Althena's statue, in Burg's weak excuse for a town square. After a few moments of playful anger, the friends sat in a content silence, enjoying the warmth of the July night and the mystical appearance of the statue. Backlit by the Blue Star, and adorned with flowers for the wedding tomorrow, she looked very maternal yet the shadows gave her a strange, almost sad, expression.

Finally, Kyle spoke. "You got us all worried, Nash. Hiding upstairs like that. Do you not like us anymore?"

"No. It's nothing like that."

"Well then what is it?" Asked Alex.

"You two wouldn't understand."

"Try us," said Kyle dryly. "We may not be Vane Educated, but we are your friends."

He winced at that comment, and then sighed. "I look at the two of you, and I am jealous. You both have these wonderful marriages—or will starting tomorrow. And Kyle, you even have a daughter. I keep wondering, why can't I have that?"

"What do you mean why can't you have that? I thought you two were... I mean, ever since my wedding you and Mia have been together."

"I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Then explain it to us, please," said Alex.

"Maybe it happens where you're from, but where I'm from, you just don't walk up to the Guildmaster and ask her to marry you. It just doesn't work that way. Especially...especially if..." 

_ _

"Maybe if you stop looking at her as your superior and started thinking of her as just your girlfriend, which she should be first and foremost—" interrupted Kyle.

"I do see her as that first! It's just...not appropriate. I don't even know why I ever deluded myself with the thought that it could work out—because it can't!" 

_ _

The other two men were silent, allowing him to continue. "You know, when I first arrived at Vane, I didn't think much of the fact that Mia's mother didn't have a husband.I had always just assumed he was dead, and it wasn't my business anyway. But as I've been working in the Library, I've come across some books—histories of the Ausa family—and I made a strange discovery. I knew that all of the rulers of Vane were females—its common knowledge that it is a matriarchal state. But what I learned was that they were all _single _females. It's a bizarre family tradition of sorts, I guess..."

Kyle laughed at him and then asked, "Well then where do they get the next generation?" but when he saw the hurt in Nash's eyes, he stopped, and scratched his head. 

Partially ignoring Kyle and gritting his teeth, Nash spoke again: "Not once, not in any of those books did it ever mention a husband for any of them. The children's fathers weren't even mentioned...as if men were a type of commodity that didn't merit recognition. I don't understand it. My only guess as to all of it is that the Ausas have adequate problems without needing to worry about relationships. Keeping that Guild running is enough—let along rebuilding it."

Alex said quietly, "Traditions can be broken."

"I don't think I could ask her to forsake what her family—what Vane believes in—just for my own happiness."

"Well do you need to be married? I mean, the way it sounds you two already live like you are."

"To a certain extent, but I'd like to at least have some degree of commitment other than my current status of 'to serve and protect' as a member of the Guild. I know that sounds selfish, but still..."

Recomposed, Kyle asked, "Have you talked to her about it?"

"I mentioned the idea a few times. The first time, about three months back, she expertly dodged with 'we need to get the Guild rebuilt before we worry about things like that' comment. I tried again a just before we left and got pretty much the same response."

Alex said gently, "She loves you, Nash. Everyone who has seen you two together knows that. I think you should put your reservations and titles aside and ask her—I want to see the two of you happy."

Solemnly he nodded, and for some reason, looked up at the statue behind them. If he hadn't known better, he could have sworn he saw her earlier sad expression shift, as though she had suddenly begun smiling at them. Clearly trying to change the subject, Kyle broke into his thoughts with a hearty laugh "Alex is getting married tomorrow and he's still sober. We've got our work cut out for us, Nash!" 

_Oh rah. I thought you gave up this shit..._

__

Fortunately, Alex verbalized his thought, "Haven't you forgotten that neither of us drink—or at least in the capacity that you do? Besides, if I'm not sober tomorrow, I'll be in deep dragon diamonds—and so will the two of you." 

Kyle and Nash looked at each other and shuddered; Luna's rage was not something they wanted to see any time soon. Kyle muttered something to the effect of them being no fun, and then guided his smaller friends back to the house, giving exaggerated sighs of disappointment with every step.

Nash shook his head, banishing the sudden memories to the back of his mind, and stared at the sacred document locked under the pristine glass. Shivering, he pulled his dark blue robe closer around him. Although it was May, the library had become unusually cold and he paused for a moment wondering why it was only now that had noticed it. He walked over to the large fireplace against the far wall. A cross of his fingers and a few muttered words yielded a small spark to ignite the wood someone had left in there. In a moment the room was bathed in a comforting yellow-orange glow, and he absently sat down right there in front of the warmth—just staring into the fire. 

_Fire…Fire and Ice…how those elements suited her so!_Over the past four years he had seen the girl he was infatuated with transform into a confident and strong woman. She had evolved during their Quest; able to see the wrongs in the right they were doing she learned to accept them as unavoidable, when they were. While Jessica and Kyle would go into battle cheering for killing their enemies, she did not. Always quietly proper, she spoke her thoughts but with a bit of reservation—unlike Jessica who just blurted out whatever came to her mind. He admired her for standing up to him, when like a fool he double-crossed them, and he loved her for forgiving him so readily. He frowned to himself as the memory of that betrayal ate at his soul like acid for a moment. She had forgiven him—they all had—but still he wondered if he would ever forgive himself.

_ _

Staring into the fire looking for comfort of some sort, he thought of how he helped her melt away her timid and inhibited nature. Behind that cold and dense wall, he had found the real her—an expected raging inferno of emotions. He sighed audibly, thinking how he had encouraged her to try new things—explore new feelings. And she had._ Her mother said **we** were the future of Vane. Some future..._

Three days ago, in her office, he had just wanted to take her in his arms and tell her everything—every secret that had driven them apart, every fear that ate at him when he looked upon her or thought of what they might have become together. He wanted to ask her to forgive everything that had ever been said in haste and every assumption that he had made. It killed him to stand there and insult her. _I called her ignorant..._

It wasn't the first time he had hurt her with his words, no, the first time (but not the last time) was before she sent him on that mission six months ago...the one from which he would return from and the 'them' that had once been would be dissolved into 'she and he.'_ I should have seen it coming...I was deluding myself to think it could ever work out..._

_ _

*****

December. He hated the cold, and he hated traveling in it even more. _I am doing this so she does not feel she needs to go...she needs to be here..._ After her mother passed away in August, Mia had become intense, driven, and completely focused on the rebuilding of the Guild and Vane. She had shut him out, focusing on her work, day in and day out. Time and again he had tried to break through her barrier of frozen determination, to make her see what she was doing to herself, turning herself into, but she would not listen. "The Guild is all that matters..." That had become her response to everything, her credo. It drove him insane. 

He spent the night with her before he left. He knew they would not see each other for least a fortnight, since the trip would be so long, and although he dreaded them, there were some things that had to be said and could not wait. He wanted to try and reason with her, about this behavior and how it was going to wind up killing her...killing him...killing them, but she would not hear it.

"You don't understand."

"I damn well do understand! I see you working yourself to death to prove yourself **_to_** yourself. Don't you see that you don't have to do that?"

"I'm not proving anything to anyone. I'm just trying to make our home what it used to be. Don't you want that?"

"Yes, of course I do. But I don't want to see you killing yourself to get it all done this week. We knew it would take time when we first started."

"We are running out of time," she replied, refusing to meet his eyes.

He fumed. This was the same argument they had been having for the past few weeks—when this mania had reached its zenith. He had found her in her office at three in the morning that time, furiously scribbling notes on some structural drawings. She looked horrible, and he used that to drag a confession out of her—she had not eaten or slept for two days. He had forced her to leave the office and get some rest—going as far to threaten to use a sleep spell to knock her out and carry her to bed himself. After twenty minutes of quarrelling, she finally conceded, and ended up sleeping for three days.

"No we are not! This is ridiculous! Mia, your mother is dead. She is not going to come back, even if you rebuild her city! She is not going to be mad at you if you cannot get it to fly again, or even get it open right away! She understood the efforts we were making—she helped us with them, but she would cry right now if she saw what you were doing to yourself!"

She rolled over and started crying, her back to him. Realizing the harshness of his words, he reached for her shoulder, but she pulled away. "Damn you, Nash."

"I'm sorry," he muttered. _I hate to make her cry...Damn me._

_ _

He brushed at her hair, speaking softly, "I love you, Mia. I just don't want to see you become so consumed by your passion for Vane that you forget about yourself...or forget about me...about us. I haven't seen you smile in weeks, and I haven't seen you do anything for yourself in about twice as long. Isn't it about time you let it go, if only for a moment?"

She turned back to face him, wiping her face. "Vane is all I have."

"No it's not. What about me? What about Jessica? What about the rest of the people out there that love you? That depend on you?"

She put her hands flat on his chest and looked him in the eyes, "I have to do this. I'm sorry that you can't understand why, but I have to. I have not forgotten about you or any of our other friends, but this needs to take priority for me right now. I think it's helping me deal with some of the pain and anger I still have from my mother's death...and something else...I love you, Nash. I am not trying to shut you out, and you have done more than your share to help me with my work. But I need to see it finished—soon. Please understand that."

He hugged her to him, wondering what the 'something else' was, but feeling it was not appropriate to ask at this moment. 

A few minutes later, she kissed him on the cheek. "You should get some sleep so you are ready to travel tomorrow."

He forced a small smile and wrapped a protective arm around her, the discussion replaying itself in his head as he fell asleep. _Damn me...I made her cry..._

_ _

*****

_ _

When Nash awoke in the library the next morning, he was surprised to find himself wrapped in a woolen blanket and the fire put out. Gazing down on his coverings he saw the symbol of the Ausa family woven into the red fabric. He smiled—just a little—as he rose to his feet. He brushed the wrinkles out of robe, ran his fingers through his hair, and then folded the blanket reverently and placed it over a chair.


	5. Chapter Four

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_ _

Chapter Four

_"Why do you fear at the afterglow as the clouds make love?"—Tom Smith _

_ _

Brinson's backside, among other things, was tired. Gravitt had said one day's ride, but they were now on their fifth. Everyone (except Gravitt it seemed) knew that Vane was at least a week away from Briggatt—the dead city was located south of Lyton and west of Tamur. _That man has absolutely no sense of direction. _He would have pointed this out to Gravitt when he made his mistake, but knew better; a slap across the face would have been rather embarrassing, and what's the point of correcting him anyway? Everyone else realized the error. _Perhaps he forgot we were in Briggatt and thought we were in Lann? _Fortunately, he had allowed them to camp after riding through the first night, and rightly so—even the mighty Gravitt was tired. 

And now, here as they made camp for the fourth night in a row, he looked over at Sabre as she tended the horses. He was one of the few people who could pronounce her name correctly, _SAH-braeh._ He was also one of the few people who knew what it meant, and smiled thinking how well it suited her. Although he was not from her tribe (or from Philip or Marcus's for that matter) like all tribesmen, he knew the language and the correct inflections.

"Hurry up, you idiots. Get that tent up. It's going to rain soon!"

He gritted his teeth as the man he worked for—_slaved for_—shouted his latest desire. Working quickly, he and Philip assembled the crude tent and then stepped aside as Gravitt entered it, carrying a sleeping Darian. His employer had ordered Sabre to make her son sleep when he started to fuss after the first few hours of the ride. She would wake him to eat, but then with a quick touch of her hand, reluctantly force the child back into slumber again. Gravitt did not have the patience for the boy, and demanded that such drastic measures be taken. _Some father..._Since the tent was only big enough for two people, Gravitt and the child would sleep in it, and the rest of them out in the rain. Brinson did not mind sleeping outdoors under the tranquil light of the Blue Star—_it reminds me of home.__Besides, it spares me the disgust of his presence, and for a little while, it lets me at least pretend I'm free._

_ _

As Gravitt's personal manservant, Brinson learned more than most when it came to his master's dealings—sometimes too much for his own comfort. Normally, he would have been told where they were going, how long they would be there and what to expect, but Gravitt was keeping everyone on a need to know by the minute basis. _I really hope he is just going there for this party he was invited to..._

_ _

At twenty-three years old, Brinson was a tall and lanky man with glasses. His hair was long—it reached half way down his back—and always tied back in a ponytail. It's color was not particularly striking—just a typical dirty blonde. He had light brown eyes—almost tawny in color—that were always full of his good nature blanketed behind a curtain of sadness. Although he stood five foot nine inches, his slight build and complete lack of strength and coordination had spared him from active combat and most manual labor his entire life, leaving him more the intellectual work—reading maps, drafting and filing papers, mending and folding clothes. He had absolutely no skill with any weapon, but was Gifted with the powers of the Earth. 

His personality was so gentle that once he found a deaf child of no more than seven wandering the streets of Briggatt naked, apparently abandoned by her family as they fled when Gravitt came to power. He took her in, and for that year, he had raised her as his own. The little girl adored him, and he did her. Her parents had never bothered to name her, or if they had, she could not hear it. Together, they decided she should be called Celina. He had taught her to read and to write, and by using gestures and drawings, the two of them managed to communicate. He cursed himself for not being suspicious when Gravitt openly agreed to let him adopt her. _I was so naive..._

Once, just after Darian was born and Gravitt had been particularly cruel to Sabre, he had tried to cause an earthquake in Briggatt to shake the manor down and kill Gravitt. He had grown tired of watching the woman he adored be beaten into submission and humiliation. Anger cracked through his eyes as he saw her sitting in a pool of her own blood, but it was obvious that she had not been crying—she was stronger than that. She looked at him, hurt and tired. When he had asked what act she received her retribution for she responded flatly, "I asked if I could name my son after my father." After a moment, she stood up, brushed the dirt off of herself and washed her face in a nearby water tub. As she cleaned the dirt, blood, and sweat from her brow she said to him, "I will name him Darian. It is not tribal, but it is a pretty name."

Watching her walk calmly away towards the stables, he forced his bravery to break through the surface of his cowardice. He crossed his arms across his chest as he called the Earth. He felt the rush of magic pour through him—it was wild, untamed magic. He raised his hands towards the manor, and silently prayed that by being immune to magic also meant that Gravitt could not locate its source. He was wrong and the attempt was worse than futile. 

His master's ability protected him from all of it—the walls shook, the ground opened up, and Gravitt just stood there, in the main doorway, watching the world move around him as he cackled at the sight of it all, his hair waving like a banner over the broken earth at his feet. He seemed to delight in the terror and chaos surrounding him, but more in the dawning looking of horror on Brinson's own face as he realized his own failure.

That act cost Brinson Celina's life, and he still had not forgiven himself for it. No, his master would not kill him—he had asked him to take his life in her place—but he refused. He needed The Quake Child; the girl was of little use to him. "Besides," Gravitt had said, "Perhaps this will teach you and your tribal friends a lesson—that I don't make threats, I make—and I keep—promises!" Right then and there, in front him—just three years ago—he slit her throat and threw her limp body backwards into the dirt, her blood painting the pebbles on the ground—and all he could do was just stand there helplessly, restrained by Philip's strong arm around his throat. _He wouldn't even let me bury her..._

_I'll give him this—he is cunning—he uses small, powerful mages as his closest workers—people who can do him no harm and people that he can manipulate._

Over the past four years, Gravitt had been quietly conquering small towns and villages left and right. Most of these states were near Briggatt and the Prairie. (The only one he steered away from was Meryod because the place was full of useless inbred hicks.) Brinson was surprised to find that most of the silver and treasures from the places (and tribes) that were conquered did not wind up in Gravitt's possession. Oh, he kept his share, but most of it just seemed to disappear. Brinson knew that Philip and Marcus (the only two people Gravitt _seemed_ to trust) would ride out of the towns after they were decimated with the take, but he never knew where they went, and sometimes they would be gone for weeks at a time. _I hate those two—they pretend to be enslaved, but they aren't. They seem to enjoy what we have to do a little too much. I know it is the nature of tribesmen to be warriors, but..._

The last city they had ransacked was a small trading town just south of Meryod. Called Rafine, it was the typical type of town they would take out—small, unprotected, and full of families. The raid was business as usual for Gravitt. He rode into town with the four of them and Darian, found an inn to stay at, and gave orders. After establishing themselves there as traders for a few days, making friends and working the taverns, Sabre would be ordered to seduce the town elder and offer a chance for a peaceful surrender, and when he refused, kill him. Philip and Marcus would use their Gifts of Fire and Illusion (respectively) to intimidate the townspeople. They offered the chance for a quiet submission, and those that chose to try and resist were scared to death by visions implanted into their heads or burned by hellfire which rose from the ground around them. Those that were left would be told to find anything worth any value and bring it to the square. Some of them would try and run out of the town gate, and they would meet their end at the hands of Gravitt and Sabre, and sometimes, a handful of hired mercenaries mounted with their blades drawn.

Once all the goods had been brought to the center of town and had been carefully inspected, Gravitt would select a few of the remaining people from the town to ride with Marcus and Philip to deliver them to the secret place where he had been sending all of his booty. Although he tried not to think of it, it had always disturbed him that the men would not return with Philip and Marcus. He, Sabre, and Gravitt would remain in the town until it was established and understood that the people were now under Gravitt's rule, and he would usually find a local willing to carry out his bidding and appoint him as governor. __Finally (usually after a week) they would leave, and just when the townspeople thought their terror was over, he would be forced to use his Gift to shake the town to bits. Gravitt did not want to risk rumors of his activities to spread ahead of him. _I still don't understand why he always wipes out the entire village—cold corpses are less useful than living slaves..._ _I pray he is not going to try anything stupid in Vane—the four of us are powerful, but certainly no match for the wizards there._

Brinson started to make a fire for the group, and looked up to see Gravitt standing before him. He placed a red and blue ribbon in the blonde man's hand and said, rather condescendingly "That horse—the gray mare—do you remember the man you won it from?"

"Yes."

"He was a Vanetian, correct?"

"Yes."

Gravitt smirked at him. "Make sure Sabre puts those back in. I just thought of a new angle, but I don't know if it's worth using. We'll see when we get to Vane." _So much for not doing anything stupid..._

_ _

Gravitt retired into the tent, leaving Marcus and Philip to stand watch, Brinson to finish making his fire, and Sabre to tend to the horses. He looked at her and knew that she wanted to hold her son, to make sure he was all right—it was a long enough ride for an adult, never mind a three-year old—but he knew Gravitt would not allow it "You'll see him soon enough," their master had said enough times on enough trips. Brinson always had wanted to smack him—how dare he refuse her the right to hold her child? _Although on some level, I suppose he feels he does have a right to the boy...not that he deserves it._

_ _

Brinson had been there that night four years ago—just a week after Ziggrat died. He had heard the pleas and course laughter, together with screams, sobbing and brutal sound of a fist striking helpless flesh and he could not do anything about it. He had gone to Marcus and Philip, begging them to help him break down the door, and stop what was happening, but they refused. They were not going to risk their lives for Sabre. She was one of them now and that fact seemed to give both of them a perverse satisfaction. No longer Ziggrat's almost-daughter, no longer treated like one of the family rather than one of the servants. Gravitt had always hated the fact his father seemed to have taken a liking to her, and that night, their new master had put her in her place, once and for all. It may have been the first time, but it certainly wasn't the last, and each time it happened, it just got harder for him to stand by completely helpless—he could not console her with just a hug when it was over. _I am a coward. I need to find a way to stop him once and for all._

_ _

Seeing her fuming in frustration from being denied the right to be with her child made him cringe. Each step she took towards a distant stream as she walked each horse to drink seemed to get heavier and more intense.True to her birth sign, she had a temper that would cause her to lose all sight of reality when she was mad. Her only flaw—to him anyway—was that fire-temper. Without a moment's warning it could ignite, shooting sparks around her until she had burned it out._I'd hate to see her and her twin go at it...they would probably scream so loud you could hear them on the Blue Star! _He had begged her numerous times to just shut up when Gravitt was yelling at her...he had pleaded with her to hide her pride and just take it, but she never would, and she usually got a healthy beating for it. _Until Darian came along...and Gravitt found a more disturbing way of controlling her..._

He loved her. He had told her that once, and knew what the response would be. In another time, another place...she would love him too, but not with Darian...she might have risked her life for him, but not her son's life. He understood this, but it still hurt him. Thinking about her always made him wonder with a bit of distress—even if they could be somewhere else, how could he love her? He could never touch her, never kiss her, never show his affection other than a careful hug. _Loving from afar...even when she is so near__.A soft sigh escaped his lips before he could stop it.In a brief moment of panic he looked about to see if any of the others, especially Gravitt, might have heard it__... _

_ _

Sabre returned with Matze then, riding her back to the camp with no saddle or bridle—just gripping the mare's light gray mane and letting her legs relax at the animal's sides. He softly called to her, "Look at you—you've got a pretty gray horse between your knees and no reins to hold onto." She smiled at him as she dismounted gracefully, landing without even disturbing the ground under her soft boots. Her hands working out of habit, she slipped a lead over Matze's neck and tied her with the others for the night. He had gotten that horse for her—he had won it in a hand of cards with a drunken mage in a nearby town some six months past. The high and mighty Vanetian didn't hold his liquor so well, and he might have felt guilty for taking advantage of the man if Sabre hadn't loved the animal so much. _Quite a pair, they are...I was a bit surprised when Gravitt let her keep the horse, though._

He approached her, his brown eyes twinkling. "Darian is all right. Let's go for a walk. Gravitt won't know."

She looked at their master's tent with concern and then back at him. "I still have to water Philip's horse."

"Then I'll go with you."

She smiled a little. "All right. But let's not be obvious about it."

She led the dark brown horse and he took her free hand as they walked towards the stream.He seemed to be thinking out loud as he said, "We're going to Vane. The most respected mages and wizards in the world are said to live there, as well as two of the Heroes. Maybe someone there can help you... with your..." He paused, unable or unwilling to finish his statement.

She nodded—barely. "I'm sorry my Gift frightens you. I would be lying if I said it didn't scare me, too."

"I worry about it, yes, but it does not make me want to run away from you. I just worry about all that Gravitt has you do—if it doesn't have some bizarre side-effect."

She gazed out into the distance, "I can't believe he's making me pretend to be his sister-in-law. I wonder why he chose this relation...I could have easily been another trader."

"I don't know. He's up to something. He wants you to wear your colors," he said as he placed the ribbons in her hand. __

She looked down at them quizzically and held them to him. "Can you put them back in for me?"

He smiled. He could at least touch her hair. Gently, as she let the horse drink, he separated three tendrils of her locks and expertly wove the ribbons into it. She closed her eyes, and he knew she was enjoying what little touch he could give her.

Thunder rattled in the distance, and rain began to fall. He watched her as she looked above—he knew why she did—she was looking to see if it was one of her brother's creations. _Her brother—The Storm Child._ She had told him tales of the two of them in the past and he had enjoyed hearing of her life before her capture. _She was so happy back then...but I guess we all were..._

_ _

He had asked her once if she knew where her brother was, and she replied she did not even know if he was still alive, but she would always try and feel him in the storms. Once, when they had a rare moment to be alone together, she had told him of that horrific night when their camp was attacked, and she surrendered. The Setin tribe had come (like so many others) looking for her and her brother—The Death Child and The Storm Child—as they were known on the Prairie, infamous for the strength of their Gifts. She had told him of the horror she saw when she exited the tent—her parents, her friends, and all of her tribe lay dead before her. A man on a horse pointed at her and shouted as she held up her hands. In a gruff voice full of adrenaline and rage over the fight the village had put up, daring not only to resist but actually kill so many of his warriors, he demanded to know where The Storm Child was. She pointed at a body on the ground—her friend, Kuna. He looked like Ashu a bit—same age, same build, and dark hair. The man on the horse leaned down and scooped her up, shouting curses at followers for their sloppiness in killing one of the prizes they had come to claim. Then, he gave the order to torch the village, and as she was dragged away, she had been forced to watch in tearful silence as her tent burned down—with Ashu still inside.

Brinson had shook his head in sadness and sympathy when she told him the story, but as he pet her hair that night, he had told her that he admired her bravery in surrendering. Like her, the Setin had come for him, but his parents had readily handed him over—he was too much of a danger to them, the tribe and himself with his Gift that earned him the name The Quake Child. _Not as romantic as her capture, but effective nonetheless._

_ _

Handing him the horse's lead, and dragging him out of his mundane memories, she began to dance in the rain, giggling. She had, to her own surprise, emerged as a talented dancer, and found she could even carry a decent tune. Together, with his lute and soft tenor voice, the two of them would work the taverns of the places they visited. Also, to make money, they would bet on cards or their horses. Since Gravitt never introduced them as slaves (there was always a cover story—usually that they were trusted associates, bodyguards and sometimes servants) he did not mind these extra-curricular activities—as long as it did not interfere with his business, and as long as they gave him a cut of the profits.

Slowly at first, and with flawless rhythm, she danced in time as the thunder sang behind them, her fire-hair swirling about in the wind and engulfing her head.Her soft suede boots whispered across the wet grass as she danced, and the masculine clothes she wore—a beige tunic and pants—just added to the feeling that her head was on fire. He sighed to himself as he watched her; she would only Storm Dance for him—_oh, just to be able to touch her, just once..._

A symphony of perfect percussion played as she spun, each turn getting faster, each bolt of music adding another layer to the harmony. Her clothes were soaked, clinging to her body as she moved in time. Lifting her head back, she looked at the sky as if she was kissing it, waiting for the next chorus of flashes of white-yellow light, which directed the orchestra. _One kiss...just once...I'd never let her go..._

_ _

The storm grew closer, rain pelted them both, and the thunder played a crescendo behind her. A final strike of lightning shook from the sky, almost striking the narrow gap between them and in it's brilliant flash, she appeared to glow as though transformed into Althena herself, delighting in the worship of the storm. She giggled as the air tickled around her from the static electricity, and breathlessly she danced towards him.

He couldn't stand it any longer. He grabbed her waist and pulled her into his arms. He wanted to kiss her, to lay her down in the sodden grass and make love to her, but he would have to be content to just hold her, and careful not to touch her skin. "That was magnificent, Sabre." 

He knew she could feel the tension between them, and perhaps hoping to break it, to take their minds off each other, she whispered "It's beautiful, but it's not Ashu's." 

A moment later he spoke, "We need to get back. We've got a long ride tomorrow. Vane is still two days away—no matter what Gravitt says."

She sighed, but took his hand and followed him (and the horse) back to camp, to sleep at ease next to him under a blanket of raindrops and thunder.


	6. Chapter Five

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_ _

Chapter Five

_ _

# "The only true wisdom is in knowing that you know nothing."—Socrates

Meetings. Meetings. And more meetings. That seemed to be the way the week had been going. Mia was stressing about her Festival, and it was beginning to show in the drop of morale of the new faculty. Many of them were former students of the Guild; apprentices who had nearly finished their training just before the Fall. The rest, well, they were of the older generation who chose to return either during or after the major Reconstruction had ceased. Together, the two groups seemed to be at odds with each other, and they acted more like two separate entities than a single being working for the same greater good. He knew Mia had seen this—and Nash too—but since neither was speaking to the other, he doubted anything was likely to be done about it anytime soon.No matter how much friction it generated in the meantime. 

_Those two need to stop acting like teenagers and get over it...this place will fall apart if the Guildmaster and the Premier don't communicate...Professionalism, kids. Professionalism._

_ _

Gregory bustled around the small yet exquisitely decorated room as he performed his duty of readying it for the meeting. As a member of the Council of Elders, Gregory was one of the most respected wizards in Vane. He had taught there for decades, and had established himself as quite the historian as well as professor. The few books he had written were kept in the library and (surprisingly enough) had survived the Fall; but he doubted anyone ever read them. _Just the boring diatribes of an ageless man..._ He winced as he heard himself apply the phrase he'd heard his students use to describe him_. If only they knew how close to the truth that had become._

Gregory ran his fingers through his salt-and-peppered hair. He was one of the oldest active members of the Magic Guild, though none could tell that from his appearance alone (which would have one guess he was in his early sixties). He never offered information on his exact age, but he had lived through four generations of Ausa rulers, and though the reign of each of them, he had recorded what he had seen. Some of it he put down in his books, but never all.If one wanted the full story, they would need to corner the quiet man and listen carefully. His students knew, and most of Vane knew, when he spoke of the history of the city, it was as though he were recalling events he had witnessed, or people he had personally known. Although he never had claimed to be there at those times, there was something in his playful blue eyes, his quiet, velvet voice, and his calm assurance of authority that left the student forever wondering.His features seemed ageless, old yet not elderly, and all that were asked had been unable to describe him as ever looking different.How much of this was real, or the result of his mastery of illusion, no one knew for sure—or dared ask him. __

He took the elegant silver nameplates of the members of the Council out of their case on the small bookshelf in the room and began to place them at the appropriate chairs. To say he liked the other members would be an overstatement. Most of them—particularly the ever testy and never sympathetic Robin—grated on his nerves. _The only reason I agreed to serve on this team was for Mia...they would have eaten her alive._

The other three members had been serving out their terms since Lemia had appointed them, but not Gregory. Although he had been there years before the rest of them, for some reason he had always refused to serve on the Council or hold any other office. Lemia had asked, her mother, Relina had asked, and each time, he would decline. Then, after Willam had been killed during the Fall, Mia had approached him and begged him to take his place. He'd hesitated at first, but also knew she needed an ally, a friend on the Council—the other members would almost be considered tyrannical—and she had told him of her noble ideals to open Vane to anyone who wished to study magic.He agreed, but perhaps it was because they all knew just how cynical he was about politics—or perhaps because he was normally the voice of reason amongst them, but he always felt that they—particularly Robin—resented his presence. _The Council of Elders my foot...the Council of Idiots is more appropriate...__ with myself in competition for first moron._

_ _

As he moved each plate into its correct location and alignment at the wide V-shaped table, he shook his head as he visualized the mage that would soon sit behind it.. The first (from the left) belonged to Alastair Gaine. A talented instructor at Guild many years ago, and now, the only one of the Council with a bit of a heart, Alastair was the Master of Defense Magic. It was this quiet black haired man who had sealed the entrance to the Silver Spire—the home of Vane's secret weapon—such that no one but an Ausa could open it. Alastair also served as the treasurer of the Guild, and was probably the only person (besides Mia) who knew exactly where all the money they had gotten to rebuild the city had come from. 

Next came Tamora Dwyion, the Master of Attack Magic, and parliamentarian for the council. A poised and beautiful brunette, she put up a facade that made her appear to be the most human next to Alastair, but Gregory never allowed himself to trust her. _She is a snake. She hides her motives behind her beauty and charm_. _She's far too ambitious for her own good, let alone ours .Her knowledge of the laws and ordinances that held them to their decisions was unrivaled—as if she had written them herself. She too, had been an instructor in the Guild for much of her life, and had also been a close personal friend of Lemia. Her unsurpassed talent in writing spells had earned her a shelf of her own in the Library, and unlike Gregory's books, hers were always being used. _Typical of many students...to enjoy spells more than history..._ He shook his head, reprimanding himself for the moment of envy he'd wallowed in, though he realized that nothing had changed from his own youth__... Always the fun and attractions of the present, never the lessons of the past.And thus are we condemned to forever repeat the mistakes of history._

Then there was Mia's seat at the point of the V, and the seat that garnished the most attention both for it's placement in regard to the others and for it's distinguished occupant. A strange combination that had always plagued Gregory was the fact that the Council was made up of people at least twice as old as the Guildmaster they served. She would conduct and preside over the meetings amongst them, and sometimes he could see the strife in her violet eyes as she argued with people old enough to be her parents. They did not understand her motives or ideals and seemed to have little wish to even try —they only understood what had been Vane, and what they always wanted to be Vane. _I wish she would disband the Council, or at least add members who are her contemporaries...it would make her life so much easier..._

The next chair belonged to Robin Mikasa, the draconian blonde haired woman who always used her head, but never her heart. It was not a mystery to many members of Guild as to why she had never married—her duty to Vane came first and foremost, and her views on it (as well as other topics which she held a firm and decided opinion) were always voiced in the most succinct and blunt manner. She could have been attractive, had she taken a moment to ready her appearance, or even allow a smile to settle on her stern features.But, her overly organized life never left room for such trivial matters. Her title was Master of Healing Magic, a trade which she was more than talented with—she had established a capable corps of healers within the Guild, and was more than pleased when Mia agreed to build her a bigger and better infirmary—the best that than Vane had ever seen. Her service to the Council was that of secretary, providing minutes of all their meetings in her always-perfect handwriting. _Amazing. One who is so concerned with health and life is so unfeeling..._

And finally, on the right end, was his own seat, with his own nameplate—Gregory Telka. The Master of Illusion Magic himself, and Council Sergeant at Arms. Most of Gregory's life had been spent in Vane, but he had allowed himself to travel. He enjoyed seeing different parts of the world and how different people lived. In one way or another, he always managed to record it, but somehow, it always seemed to be forgotten. He truly believed in Mia's idea to open the school to anyone who wished to learn the study of magic. _Finally, a noble move for Vane, __but it's rather radical to most of them. She will take some grief for it, but I know she will live up to her name and win those battles. Ausas always do..._

As he pulled a copy of the meeting's agenda from the notebook he kept with him at all times, he studied it before finding chalk to copy it onto the blackboard in the room. Written in Mia's elegant left-handed script, he smiled to himself. _No discussion of Nash...just ordinary business, and last minute Festival nonsense. Such a relief. _His smile faded as his mind wandered back to the last meeting, exactly two weeks ago. It was then that he had sat at this gilded table in this very meeting room, listening intently as Mia sat upright and proper before the Council and asked if they thought a new Premier should be appointed before the Reopening Festival.

******

"I assume you already have someone in mind, Majesty," Robin said, with a bit of distrust in her voice.

"I do."

"You are aware that the choice rests entirely in your hands?"

Mia looked a little shocked. "I was not. I thought it would have to be brought to a vote within the Council."

Alastair spoke then, gently, "No. It has always been the sole choice of the Guildmaster."

_ _

Mia's face almost twisted in puzzlement, as the Council members looked at one and another, mumbling in a form of disbelief. Finally Tamora spoke, "Perhaps your mother did not inform you, but the Premier has always had...more than professional...or ceremonial...duties."

The Guildmaster's face turned bright pink as the gravity of what had just been said hit her. A moment later, after the stun of the blow wore off, but still with a bit of pink in her cheeks, she spoke:"I know of my lineage, yes. I did not think it was a 'tradition.' I always just believed the Premier was chosen on his abilities with magic and his obligation and allegiance to the Guild. These are qualities one would expect in an instructor, administrator and ambassador, correct?"

"Yes they are Majesty, and the Premier must be someone who can handle all of that responsibility—especially leading the Guild, as that is his first and foremost duty. However, for Vane, it also needs to be more of an arraigned marriage—to ensure that the strength of the magic within the Ausa line remains what it has always been." 

"Our only concern as the Council is that whomever you chose is of noble birth and gifted with powerful magic," said Robin coldly.

Gregory watched Mia as her almost white skin turned even more pale—he could tell this was too much for her to take; hard enough to stand before the Council and ask if a new Premier should be instated after the atrocities the last one had committed, but harder when you learn he is to be nothing more than an object to be used—a figurehead of sorts, but with more _personal _duties. Gregory had been in line once, a long time ago, to be Premier for Mia's grandmother, Relina. He turned her down, knowing the implications that went with the coveted position. Oh, he loved her—he loved her more than he could express—but he did not want to be used like that. So, after saying a few parting words to her, and wondering if he would regret his decision, he disappeared from Vane for the first time._ _

_ _

_The 'other duties' were supposed to be a secret...it is un-written law that only the Council knows the truth...but I had Apprenticed under the Premier to Relina's mother...and he told me...he could accept it, but I could not...I wonder if I hadn't known... _

"Who did you have in mind, Majesty?"

"The only person who deserves it. The only one with incredibly powerful magic and the only one who has shown true loyalty to the Guild."

"Orinth?"

Gregory noticed that Tamora beamed with pride as her son's name was mentioned, but Mia seemed to flinch as if she had just been struck. "No. Nash."

A murmur waved across the table. "Nash? After he betrayed us to Ghaleon?" asked Robin. "You call that loyalty?"

"He has more than paid for his transgressions."

"Yes, and so have we. Our city is no longer in the air thanks to the two of them."

Mia kept her voice even as she said: "Nash had nothing to do with that."

Tamora asked, "Did Nash know about what Ghaleon did to your mother? Locking her inside her own head and replacing her with a shape-shifter?"

"No. He did not."

"How can you be so certain?"

"He told me so."

"And you believed him?"

"Of course I did. He's proven his loyalty to Vane, and to me, many times over since then."

The Council all looked at her with a bit of distress in their eyes. Gregory knew—they all knew—of the affair between their Guildmaster and Nash. For three years the two of them were almost inseparable, then for some reason, they drifted apart, and now she wanted him as her Premier? 

The small raven-haired woman stood up and glared at her elders. "I am choosing Nash on account of his talents as a wizard, not as a husband. This may be against tradition, but it is time that things around here changed. We are all too stuck in the elitist traditions of Vane past. I want us to move forward. My personal feelings for him are not playing a part in my choice. You said it was my decision and my decision alone. Very well, I have given you my answer. I want a Premier who will stand behind my decisions and support me in my failures and successes. I do not want a marriage, no matter how it is disguised."

Silence danced upon the table as the Guildmaster's words fell upon the ears of the Elders. She clenched her fists as she waited for the eye of the storm to pass and for them to begin next round of attack.

"I don't understand how you can chose Nash for those reasons, since he and you don't even speak to each other, Majesty. How can he stand behind you when the two of you can't be in the same room without the tension becoming unbearable for anyone nearby? Why just yesterday I was in faculty dining talking to him when you entered. The air grew so dense you would have thought he summoned one of his storms. And then, after you tried to greet him and start a simple conversation, he seemed to shake with terror or rage, and got up and left without so much as a goodbye!" Alastair spoke in his usual quiet voice, but his words seemed to send shockwaves through Mia.

Her blue-violet eyes whipped around the table, attempting to stare each of them down. _She should have known this was going to be a battle..._"Nash will come around. We won't let our personal feelings come between us; both of us are perfectly capable of being professional."

"Not from what I've seen," Robin said with a snide grin.

Perhaps...but will you both adhere to that tall order? Time will tell...Nash would make a good Premier. He is a talented mage and very much respected...even by the faculty years older than he...With the possible exception of this Council, that is...He could do a lot with this place, and I know he would assist and support your decisions, once he stops being such a bastard...but perhaps I can step in there...I'd rather not...but for Mia.... for Vane...

"What about his family background? Someone who does not even have a last name can't possibly have the correct bloodlines for such a title," supplied Tamora.

"Nash's background means little to me. The person that he is, and the mage that he is, are the things that matter. So he does not have a fancy last name to impress you with, so what? He's been Nash of Vane as long as any of us have known him. He is as much Vanetian as you or I."

"I don't agree, Majesty. Again, I urge you to select another, and to uphold your first duty to the Guild—that being to provide a descendant with the training and ability to rule and defend Vane. Need I remind you that no Guildmaster has lived past the age of 38? You will be twenty in a few weeks. Time is running out. If you were to match that age, that would only give you eighteen years with your daughter. Only eighteen years to train her for the responsibility that lies ahead of her," Robin said sharply. Then as an afterthought, she added: "Something your own mother was clearly lax in doing!"

_Ouch. Match, point, and set! Rub her nose in it a little, why don't you, Robin?_

Mia's eyes stared down at the table, her rounded shoulders spoke of her defeat—she knew, and all of the Council knew that Guildmasters had the unfortunate destiny of a very young death, often leaving their Premiers and Council members with the duty of raising their daughter to be the next Guildmaster. _Oh nice Robin, remind her of the family death sentence... now you're really fighting dirty._ Mia slowly raised her head and stared into the blonde-woman's stern brown eyes, "And maybe that's another tradition that will end with me."

Gregory wasn't sure, but he could have sworn Robin actually showed a tinge of remorse, but then she replied, "Your mother said the same thing. And she died at thirty six."

Mia made a fist with one hand and forced a sigh back. She was not going to give up this easily, and Gregory knew it. She was stronger than that...all Ausas were stronger than that...but then Tamora spoke...

"Don't make the same mistake your mother made, Mia. She fell in love with a man who used her. She gave him—against the Council's wishes for he was the first non-Vanetian to receive it—the most sought-after title in the magic using world, and he betrayed her, you, and us. Nash is just like him—he was his apprentice. Like teacher, like student! I urge you to reconsider. Find yourself a nice well-known Vanetian boy who has shown both loyalty and dedication to the Guild. There are plenty of--" 

She might as well just auction off her son to Mia...you're something else, you know that Tamora?

Mia cut her off with a glower of ice, and then turned to the rest of the table, her eyes ablaze with of a number of emotions. "Ghaleon loved my mother. Why she hid the fact that he was my father from me until she died is of little consequence, and I do not even begin to guess her motives for doing so. Regardless, this is not about marriage! It is about Vane! And just for the record, when the time comes and I decide to marry, it will not be a forced relationship based upon the demands and ideals of a fossilized society that should have changed years ago!"

Robin flipped her short blonde hair as she nodded to the Guildmaster. "So be it, but still, for the sake of Vane, you must prove Nash has the correct heritage to wear such a mantle. No one knows where he came from—he just showed up here one day. For all we know, he could be some inbred tribal brat!"

Mia closed her eyes, and Gregory knew, he felt, her strife. She wanted—no she needed—support and the one person she felt she could get it from was as distant as the Frontier. Her Council, the people who were supposed to help and guide her did not want to see Vane change for the better. No, they were still bitter about the Ghaleon, and the Fall. They were not looking to the future; they were stuck in the past. 

_Historians know that history repeats itself...and my theory tends to hold politicians as more responsible than any in that regard...can't they see the old ways aren't working? Can't they see that she has some valid and noble ideas? And Nash...can't they see all the good he's done? Can't they see that Ghaleon manipulated him just as he did all of Vane?Including THEM?_

Gregory sighed audibly. He was the one person who knew Nash's perfectly kept secret. He also knew that if the truth were to ever come out, it would ruin the person he still thought of as his favorite student and considered one of his greatest friends. Nash had never, not once, told anyone anything about his family other than that they were dead. Sometimes this aroused suspicion, and occasionally someone would ask the Apprentice to the Premier of Vane for more details. With a scowl, he would degrade the questioner (usually with a line that ended in 'ignorant peasant') and remind them just how wonderful he was—after all he was the apprentice to Ghaleon, one of the Four Heroes, and the most powerful wizard their world had ever seen. After he mentioned that fact a few times, he'd tell them that they should learn their place in life and not worry about other's affairs. The person who was bold enough to ask then usually backed away from him, rolling his or her eyes and cursing the arrogance of the overconfident and conceited young man. Gregory knew it had been all an act—an act that Nash had perfected after many years of practice. _An act of survival in this town...but sadly it cost him friends...__ and made him more vulnerable to Ghaleon's influence..._

The room was silent as Mia held a hand to her forehead as though trying to hold back her thoughts, and deflect the pain of their words. The Council seemed to be awaiting her admission of defeat, which Gregory knew was not going to come—not this easily anyway. And not with me here to back her...I have to do something...I know her choice is for the best...Well...here goes...something...something I should have done awhile ago...

He stood up and addressed the group, "It is obvious that our Guildmaster has made her decision. I support her, as should all of you. Whether or not Nash was born into the correct class or a fine name should make little difference to the fact that he was one of the Five Heroes or the fact that he has worked day and night to rebuild our city.We all owe our freedom, if not our very lives, to him. Should this trifle of his heritage be of any concern to any of you, I have a solution that should end any further discussion of the subject..."

The Council, Mia, all of them looked at the Gregory with utter surprise as he spoke in his usual calm and measured voice and told them of his plan. Tamora seemed to cringe as he spoke, but the others just sat in shock until he finished. When he was done, a moment of stunned silence held as Robin shook her head, and Mia and Alastair just remained perfectly still, considering Gregory's words and the implications of them. Finally, it was moved by Alastair that the meeting be quickly adjourned. Robin seconded the motion and everyone hastily moved out of the room, all of them still astounded—or appalled—by the words of the ageless mage.

Gregory resumed his seat as the others quietly left, giving glances to him that ranged from puzzlement to annoyance and disbelief.Carefully, though quite deliberately, he avoided acknowledging these looks and thus having to defend his suggestion.It was obvious that some of them would not willingly accept his plan. It might resolve Robin's objection, but only technically.It still wouldn't answer the question he knew burned deep within her, and within Mia as well—and probably, had in fact, just raised a few more suspicions. 

_Well...it's been said now...but will Nash accept it? He's grown up quite a bit, and his pride has been tempered over the years...but still..._

******

The door to the Council Room flung open, and Gregory turned to see who was disturbing his thoughts. Mia didn't even attempt to pull the door behind her, but instead just let it slam as she made her way into the room, each of her steps quickening with fury and frustration.Her face was clouded in a rage that did not invite closer examination and her fists were clenched, as though throttling the life from some unseen victim.

He didn't need to ask; he knew what was wrong. It could all be summed up in one syllable, one name. Nash. Yet, while Gregory knew many things about the cause of Mia's constant grief, he spoke of none of them. 

"I am going to kill him! Not even a week and I'm ready to strangle him!"

He smiled to himself in amused exclamation. _Perhaps this is more of a marriage after all!_

She waved her hands erratically as she approached him. "Gregory, your former student, my chosen Premier, is the most hard-headed idiot in all of Vane!"

"You're not telling me anything new, Majesty," he said dryly as he watched her make perhaps the most ungraceful descent in the history of Vane into her seat at the point of the V-shaped table.

She banged a fist on the table, "In the hall just now, do you know what he said to me? I asked him for a simple favor—I begged—for him to stop calling me Majesty. I told him, in public, we needed to look like a team, not two strangers who can barely speak to each other. Not to mention that it drives me crazy! It's as if I was never his friend or meant anything to him. Just another person in the Guild!Or less, at least he speaks to them! And what does he say in response? 'I shall always show the utmost respect for you, Majesty.'" Her teeth were clenched as she grated out,"I wanted to smack him into last week!"

Gregory shook his head, "Sounds like our Nash just being Nash." _He has the inordinate ability to go from nice guy to a total jerk in a Meribian Second..._

She looked up to him, her eyes half hooded in anger."He was your student, Gregory, from the day he walked out of the cave until…Ghaleon.And he still seeks your counsel.What is it that he won't tell me? What's changed him, and drives him to treat me like this?"

_I think you know the answer to that better than any of us, Mia._

_ _

Again the mask slipped over the Mage's face as he paused before replying:"Why, I don't quite understand what you mean, Majesty.Nash is…. Nash." __

She raised an eyebrow at him and asked, "What do you keep from me about him, Gregory? From all of us?"

He stopped writing the agenda on the chalkboard and turned around to look at her, his face in the perfect resound of surprise. "Keep from you? Why nothing. I know as much as you do, Majesty."

She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, in some degree of thought or perhaps even disgust. He could have sworn she was scrutinizing him, and prayed she would not command him to answer her question more directly, for as a member of the Guild he would have been constrained to oblige her. _I'll be breaking one promise or another if she does order me..._Fortunately, wherever her thoughts were, they did not involve him so as she sat in her state of near-meditation, he continued writing on the board. He was more than glad that whatever she was thinking, she kept to herself. But, somewhere, somehow, Gregory suspected he knew the truth—she really did still love him, even if she would never admit aloud. _Ausa women...they are stubborn as tribesmen..._

__

*****

_ _

It had been ten years ago, in Reza, the home of the Thieves Guild, that Gregory had his first run-in with tribesman—or rather tribes_boy_. What he was doing in that city at that time he didn't quite remember, but he was sure he was just passing through on another one of the missions he had been given by Lemia or Ghaleon..._They all seem to become one mission after awhile...__ at least the early ones had._

He had been more than careful in Reza—keeping his purse close at all times, and only opening it to make a payment for food or supplies. One of those times, as he was purchasing some medicinal items to assist him on his journey back to Vane, he felt a hand—apparently not a trained one—reach into his robe, looking for the silver he was now holding in his palm.

He grabbed at the wrist of the thief and turned around with his free hand raised in the opening gesture to cast a stun spell. He froze for an instant in surprise as his eyes fell to face a filthy child, dressed in clothes that looked more like rags, and hair that was so dirty and matted any attempt to give a color to it was impossible. The shop keep raised an eyebrow, but did not even bother to intervene; stealing was completely legal here, as long as it was not against another member of the Guild. He moved his cart away from the two of them, apparently looking for another buyer of his goods.

"Let go of me or I'll hurt you!" The child's voice was shrill, the sound of fear mixing in with the not so gentle threat underlying it. 

"You were trying to steal from me, boy. You should be afraid of what I will do to you!" Gregory's voice was forceful, but his eyes were mocking the child.

"Let go! I'll kill you! I can make storms!"

The boy growled audibly at him and began to concentrate, focusing his attention and his power onto him.Then, just as the air began to fill with static and the stench of ozone, his target seemed to fade, growing thinner as if dissolving into the air.The boy looked about in confusion for a moment when, suddenly a hand was placed on his shoulder from behind him.

Gregory glanced up into the suddenly turbulent and disorganized sky overhead with the distant sound of thunder coming from what had just been a calm and lightly clouded sky. He kept his hand on the child's bony shoulder. "Obviously. That's quite a bit of Wild Magic you've got there, boy. With a little training you might even be a match for me. But, not today, I think."

On realizing Gregory's new position, the child squinted at him again in concentration, but before the storm could begin to break overhead the old man vanished for a second time, as though he had never existed.The boy looked around in bewilderment, seeing the villagers stare at him as though noticing him for the first time.Again Gregory appeared before him, a few inches from his face and put a gentle hand again on his shoulder, then touched his face, so the child knew he was real and not a hallucination from a deprived stomach or tired mind. "But, as I said, not today."

The sky cleared again, and the child's voice came out frightened and defeated. "Are you going to hurt me?"

"No. I'd like to help you, actually.You…. intrigue me, boy."He looked around at the others who had been watching them, and suddenly the crowd found other, more important things in which to find an interest."Where are your parents?"

The ragged child looked back at him, the fear giving way to mistrust and his last shred of pride."They're… gone, and I don't need any help. I've made it here all by myself. All the way from the Prairie."

"Gone as in you are abandoned?"

"Gone as in dead."

"I see. My condolences. It is impressive that you made it all the way here, but where are you heading?"

He pulled a piece of paper from his tunic, showing a crudely drawn map. "Vane."

Gregory struggled to restrain a small laugh as he looked from the rudimentary map to the solemn dark eyes of the child._He's serious, and if he truly is alone, and with that much power, it may be the only answer...for his own sake if no one else's.He paused a moment, his expression growing more serious. "Why are you going to Vane?"_

The child's features distorted in thought as he gave his response, "A nice lady in Iluk who gave me something to eat and a place to stay for a night told me I should go there. She said people there could teach me things. Besides, its one of the places on my map. I don't know why I'm following it though. Something just tells me I should."

"Interesting. I will say it's apparent you have a lot to learn. If you are going to call a storm to defend yourself, perhaps you should make sure you have a target—one that isn't standing close to you—or you'll wind up getting struck by lightning yourself!"

Gregory swore the child blushed under the dirt on his face. "Yeah, I kinda learned that the hard way..."

A smile crossed the mage's face. "So you are going to Vane. Do you know anything of Vanetian history or traditions?"

"No. What does that have to do with anything?"

"Your appearance, for one thing. I don't think you would be well accepted in the floating city, at least not looking and acting the way you do."

The boy looked down at his tattered and stained tunic and pants he had been wearing for over six months. "I don't have any fancy clothes."

"Or had a good meal lately, unless I miss my guess."He looked back down to the small boy."When did you last eat?I can tell it's been even longer since you last bathed."

The child looked back to him."I don't need to… I mean I'm not hungry. I don't need your help."Then the sound of a rumble came again, but this time not from distant thunder.Rubbing his empty stomach the ragged boy nodded slowly."Okay… maybe I am a little hungry."

Laughing, Gregory offered the boy his hand and began pulling him gently. "Let's make use of that silver you were trying to 'borrow' from me then.The world always looks better on a full stomach, and if you're serious about Vane…we need to discuss a few things."

Gregory knew the boy still did not trust him, but was driven by a hunger for both food and what he might know of his destination. Reluctantly, the child allowed himself to be pulled along to the local tavern (which was strangely the largest building in the city.) As they entered, the boy asked,"You know about Vane? Could you tell me how to get there?"

"I've been to Vane…. Many times.You could say I live there, though not always."He could tell the boy did not seem to fully believe him, even though he wore the golden embroidered shield on his jerkin that proclaimed his status as a master mage of Vane. _He's been out in the world long enough to be skeptical..._

A barmaid greeted them and found them a table away from all the other patrons, being sure to turn her nose up at the scent coming from the boy.

"Dinner for two, whatever it is tonight."

The girl nodded, but not without giving a rather nasty look to boy with the dirty clothes, matted hair and filthy ribbons hanging in his face.

Just then, a man who had been sitting in on a game of cards near the bar interrupted them before Gregory could ask the child's name. The stranger was large with long, greasy dark hair, and his last bath probably predated the boy's. He gave the older man an evil grin and snickered."And what's a fancy gentleman want with a ragamuffin like this?Selling him eh? Won't get much money for a scrawny sack of shit like that. Tell you what. I'll give you 200 silver for him right now and save you the trouble of feeding him."Gregory watched as his new charge looked around as if trying to find an escape route, but the man blocked them both into the booth.

Gregory's eyes flashed callously as he stared at the creature that had spoken.He closed his eyes as he muttered a few words, and his face began to melt, the flesh swirling and twisting into dull, green reptilian scales.As his eyes slowly opened they grew into huge, slitted circles of dead white.His mouth opened to reveal long fangs and a narrow split tongue flitted out to taste the air an inch from the man's nose.The voice that followed, cold, dead, hissing…filled the man's ears."And what interest are my affairsss to you, human?Unlessss… you wish to take his place, perhapssss?"The hand that gestured to him was no longer human, but narrow, scaled, and clawed with thin yellow venom dripping from each claw tip.

Gibbering in terror, the filthy man backed away from the apparition as a stain began to spread on his pants. "Get.... I… I didn't mean nothing…. I'm sorry… I…GET AWAY FROM ME!"With a scream, he stumbled backwards and ran out of the tavern as though all the demons of Hell were behind him.

Confused, the boy looked to the man sitting across from him, staring into the pale blue eyes and now sad face."What happened? What did you do?You did something, didn't you?I could feel it.You're one of those mages."A look of wonder crossed his face, and even though the food arrived just then, tempting both of them, he looked at Gregory with a newfound respect before reaching for the meat with his hands. "You really do live in Vane."Then he added with determination; "And you're going to take me there when you go back."

Gregory stared in surprise at the boy's demand and then pointed to the utensils on the table. "Use the fork to put the food in your mouth, and the knife to cut it into small enough so that they will fit."

The child stared for a moment at the tools, as if he had never seen them before. His eyes moved to watch the mage demonstrate this new skill, and then he mimicked it perfectly. _He's a quick learner...but table manners are much easier to master than magic..._

"There are some people, at least on the outside they're human, but on the inside they are animals, believing they have the right to own, and abuse, other human beings.It's called slavery, and it offends me.Let's just say he has a sick mind.I don't like minds like that."He shifted the subject as quickly as he could."You could feel that? Did you… see anything?"

The child was in mid bite but still managed an answer, "I didn't see anything, just him getting all scared… and messing in his pants." He tried to hide the smile as he spoke, knowing it wasn't polite but feeling that whatever the nasty man had seen had been well deserved."But I did feel something. It was kinda…. tingly.Like when I call the storms, or when Sabre…" He stopped speaking, his voice choking off.

He is talented indeed, and I'll need to keep a tighter reign on my own magic until he learns greater control. I don't want him to learn from just watching me. He needs proper training before learning from observation...or he might hurt himself...or someone else...If he were to just call the parts of the storms he needed, he could be deadly, and not tire too easily...a few good spells, too...he'll be a formidable adversary...but that will all come with time.

"Sabre?"

"My sister. She was different, though."

"How so?"

"Well, I can make storms, and I've heard of people being able to make earthquakes or do what you just did—make pictures in peoples heads, but she....she would make people feel things. Sometimes they were good things, but a lot of times she would hurt people. She hurt me once. She didn't mean to...it just happened...so...no one would ever touch her."

"I see..." Gregory was fascinated, and hesitantly pushed the next question, "Where is she?"

"The men on the horses took her."

"I'm sorry." Gregory watched the boy's expression contort as he thought of his family, and tried to change the subject. "So you are from the Prairie? What is your name then?"

"Kinashua."

"And your family name?"

"I don't have a family any more so it doesn't matter. Besides, you still haven't told me your name."

Gregory smiled, "My name is Gregory Telka, but you may call me Master Gregory, since it seems I will be taking you to Vane after all. But you're going to have to pass the Cave of Trials. My guess is that you won't have any trouble with that, given what I've seen of your abilities."

The boy smiled broadly at the Gregory, and said, "Thank you, Master Gregory. Why are you called Master?"

"I have earned my Master's Robes, and badge." He gestured to the exquisitely embroidered insignia of honor he wore on his traveling jacket. "Apprentices wear tunics. We will get you one, but first we must discuss your name."

"Discuss it? Why?"

"It is too tribal to be using in Vane. I'm going to have to teach you some culture if you are to succeed in the floating city. They don't take kindly to people they consider less than educated. Let's see what we can do with your name...see if there is something we can pull out of it that we will call you from now on."

The mage pulled a small notepad and pencil out of his jerkin and wrote the child's name on a page, then studied it for a few minutes. He drew some lines between the letters as the boy chewed his food and leaned over in excited interest.

Kinashua said, "Sabre used to call me Ashu, but I didn't like that."

The mage shook his head, and then smiling pointed to four letters in the middle of the name. "Nash. That should work. Do you like it?"

The child scowled a little bit, but considered a bit. "I guess."

"Good. We've much more to discuss about your background. We've got to make you a gentleman—give you a history, teach you how to dress, and most of all, teach you how to act Vanetian."

"Act Vanetian?"

Gregory grinned a little as he said, "Act like a snob, actually. And we're going to have cut and wash that hair." 

The boy's hand absently fingered his locks, and a bit of red spread across his marred face. "Yeah, its pretty dirty."

The mage's expression grew more somber as he added: "I'm afraid we'll have to do something about those ribbons.I'm sorry Kin—Nash, but they just won't do in Vane."

The boy's filthy fingers closed about remains of the ragged ribbons. "But they're part of me, they're my tribe's colors, and all that I have left of…." He looked back into the suddenly tragic eyes of his new friend.

"I know, but they're part of the old you—of Kinashua, not Nash.If you want to go to Vane, it must be as Nash, not Kinashua.If you like, I'll hold them for you."The child slowly pulled them from his hair, dirt and grime coming with them. The colors of the ribbons had been sun bleached, and the ends frayed, but Gregory could still recognize they had once been red and blue. Kinashua stared down at them in his open palm as the mage gently took his last bit of tribal pride and placed it with unexpected reverence in his pouch.

They finished their meals in silence, thoughts running rampant between them. After the plates had been cleared, Gregory smiled at his new charge. "Our next stop will be by a clothing store, and then the inn so we can shine you up. Nash, my dear boy, we have a lot of work to do with you." 

*****

Robin arrived in the Council Room, her robes flowing around her as if she was being lifted above the ground. Always perfectly punctual, when Mia said two o' clock, she would be in the room seated at that time, no sooner, no later. She quickly found her place next to Gregory, and nodded to him in greeting as Mia called the meeting to order and began business. As Alastair reported on the state of the small Vanetian Guard, Robin slipped The Master of Illusion a note. It read: "Vane would be so much better off if Ausas didn't fall in love. Look at where the last Premier got us, and look at where we are headed."

All Gregory could do was grin and write back, "You have much to learn, Master Robin. Perhaps you should go find yourself a man—if only for fifteen minutes."

She glared at him, and what she would do next he did not know, so he whispered, "Not that I'm volunteering, mind you, Robin."

Mia raised an eyebrow at the two of them and asked, "If we may continue, Masters Robin and Gregory?" They both bowed their heads in apology and recognition as the Guildmaster and Alastair discussed security plans for her Festival. Even as Robin pretended to be interested in the conversation at the far end of the table, he couldn't help but feel her angry eyes on him, as if waiting for a chance to pounce. 

_For all these years I avoided politics, and interfering in other's love lives... And now look at me, up to my eyebrows in both... and in the worst possible way..._

_***Author's Note: Gregory was named after Gregg Anderson, one of my dear friends and quite possibly the guy who could be considered Second Author on this project, for his beta notes are always right on mark and usually add just that little bit more to the story. You can email him at [greggb@brinet.com][1] It should be noted Gregg had never heard of Lunar until I asked him to proof read for me! –K'Arthur_

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   [1]: mailto:greggb@brinet.com



	7. Chapter Six

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_ _

Chapter Six

_"Knowledge is power, but information is the most powerful weapon."—Robert Rausch_

_ _

A pair of steely silver eyes gazed out the dirty window and into the near distance.They seemed to calculate and examine every inch of the immaculate white wall surrounding the fabled city of Vane. Here and there, rooftops peeked out over the barrier, and a few taller buildings with glassed in windows or balconies could be seen.But it was the two structures at the northern most point of the city that caught his eye and piqued his curiosity. Twin towers, equal in height and both built of what appeared to be an impossible combination of silver, crystal, and pearl reflected the rays of both the sun and the Blue Star in such manner that their color shifted from moment to moment.First they appeared a soft pearl, then a kaleidoscope of pastels that morphed into an eye piercing cobalt, and in between, colors that defied the mind's ability to grasp, let alone define. Neither of the towers had windows—just two wondrously simple yet peculiar obelisks that dwarfed everything else in sight.__

His concentration was broken as the blithering idiot of a barkeep limped over to his table and wiped it off. "What can I get for ya, buddy?"

"A beer and whatever you are offering in terms of food today. And feed the four who are with me, and the boy, too."He kept his voice level, eyeing the speaker without further comment.Now was not the time to draw attention to his presence here, no matter how satisfying it would have been to put the fool back into his proper place.

The greasy red-haired man nodded and disappeared behind the bar, shouting the order into the kitchen. 

Gravitt looked around the quaint tavern, taking quick note of the location and doings of his party members. Sabre was off in the far corner near the door entertaining her son with some inane tribal song or story, and Brinson was watching with his pathetic attentive gaze from a few tables away. _I love it how they pretend I don't know...__ they can't be so stupid as to think otherwise...At the bar, Marcus and Philip doing something much more productive by hustling some man out of money at cards. _Interesting how none of them bothered to take the bait ___and try to correct me on the distance of our ride. They are learning..._

The bartender returned to his table, bringing the beer and dragging his bad leg behind him. "So where are you folks headed? Dunart isn't exactly a tourist town. We're a stop on the road to somewhere else."

"We're going to Vane for the Reopening Festival. It starts tomorrow."

"Really? That's faster than I figured, though I'm glad they're finally getting the place back together." He shook his head, glancing out to the shining white walls for a moment."Don't think I'll go back, though."

"You used to live there?"

"Yessir. I used to attend the Guild, before the Fall that is—that's when I got my limp. I never thought it would get rebuilt, so I moved here. Opened this tavern and I've been happy ever since."He looked around for hidden listeners before he continued in a softer voice."To tell the truth, sir, I wasn't all that happy there—going to class all the time was a real pain in the ass."

Gravitt responded with a gruff laugh, and smiled softly to himself as he continued to carefully probe the tavern keeper."Good for you. Tell me, who's running Vane these days? It's been an age since I've been there."__

The man almost dropped the glass he was drying. "It certainly must have been an age! Why, Mia Ausa, of course!" Gravitt noticed the man smiled in a sort of peaceful remembrance as he spoke the woman's name. "Don't tell me you've never heard of her?!"

"She's one of the Heroes, I know that much," he said as he drank from his mug, the foam leaving a ring around his mouth, which he wiped away with his hand. "How long has she been in power? Sadly we don't get news of these things out in the Stadius Zone."

"That's understandable, since you're at least a week away by horse. Anyway, Majesty Mia's held the throne since the Fall, even though her mother lived another three years. Majesty Lemia never recovered from what Ghaleon did to her, and so she abdicated to her daughter shortly after Dragonmaster Alex defeated him."

"Is her magic as strong as her mother's used to be?"

"I believe so, since she's probably the most powerful mage living in our world—not to mention the most beautiful." He pointed at a portrait hanging behind the large man. "That's her. At the Guild we used to say that any boy who saw her would fall instantly in love with her. Can't say that's false, and I don't figure it's changed any."

Gravitt turned around and stared at the woman in the painting—her perfect features were almost supernatural. The black curls she wore against her near ghost-white skin provided a striking contrast, drawing out her peaceful dark violet eyes and serene smile. Then he smirked at the barkeep, "From personal experience, I assume?" 

The roughly dressed keeper blushed slightly, an expression clearly out of place on his weathered face."Aye, although I never stood a chance with her. The man in the other portrait, he's who she lived and died for—well up until about six months ago, if rumors prove to be true around here."

He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the picture of the auburn haired man. He was attractive, he guessed—and his grin was a bit cocky—but there was something familiar about him, something a little too familiar, but what? "I see. Who is he?"

"Our other local Hero, Nash of Vane," the man said bitterly. "Not much of a Hero if you ask me. Traded sides a few times—nearly got the rest of them killed."

"Yet you hang his portrait in your tavern."

"Aye, because he did eventually straighten up and fight with the Dragonmaster and Majesty Mia. Some say she's the only reason he did. I don't know if there's truth to that, though. All I remember about him from school is that he was so stuck up he couldn't sit down! She seemed to be the only one who could temper him."

"Seems like an odd match."

"It most certainly was, that's for sure. Anyway, he earned back some of the respect he lost by being responsible for most of the rebuilding of Vane. He'd ride back and forth from Meribia every week to oversee the progress the first few months when nothing there was habitable. I always thought it funny that he could stay on a horse. That wasn't a skill taught at the Guild. Anyway, he stopped in here a lot. Sometimes he'd stay over. Didn't drink, though."

"So you say they split up? What happened between them?"

"I can't be sure, there have been too many rumors. I've heard everything from he cheated on her, to she found out he was her cousin, to they just grew apart and even that he was from another planet. You name it. Whatever it was, it was ugly, but they kept the reasons to themselves.I don't think anybody really knows the truth, to be honest."

"I see. And he still lives there?"

The red-haired man walked back towards the bar, speaking as he did so. "Aye. In fact, the latest rumor is that she's asked him to be Premier of the Guild."

Gravitt raised an eyebrow, "Really? Is that information reliable?"

"Most likely. Came from an apprentice to one of the Elders. Guild members aren't supposed to be hanging out at bars, but I figure since classes aren't in session for another three weeks..."

Gravitt snorted a laugh. "All in the name of good commerce, of course."

"Your dinner's ready. Do you want me to call your group?"

"No, they can eat by themselves. I'd rather be alone right now."

******

Ziggrat examined the group of people lined up before him. Most were young adults, a few in middle age, but none were older than that.There were two that seized his attention almost from the start.The first was a small girl with bright copper hair who couldn't have been more than ten years old. The other in which he had a vested interest was another child—a scrawny blonde boy who looked to be in his early teens. All of them stared at their feet as he and the other buyers walked by, asking them to turn around, feeling their arms, and inquiring to the trader about their Gifts—if they had any. All of them were carefully inspected, except that little girl.No one seemed willing to step close to her, and the one man that tried to reach out and pull her head up almost lost his hand when the slave master knocked it away.

Gravitt watched as his father approached the wretched creature with dirty hair and ragged clothes. Unlike her older counterparts, she was not nervous; she was not scared, she was not sorrowful. Her face was calm—almost peaceful—as she ignored the buyers and gawkers that walked by and looked her up and down. One of the traders said to Ziggrat, "This one here's the Death Child of the Prairie. She can kill a man with just her touch. Expect to pay heavily for her." 

Gravitt looked up at his father, "That man must be kidding! This puny little girl? She doesn't even look strong enough to pull back a bow!"

"Someday you will learn the legends of the Prairie, my son. And hopefully, someday, you will learn not to judge people at first glance."

"I wouldn't pay a single silver for her until I see demonstration, Father. You know how these traders are."

"I don't want her powers, Gravitt."

"I don't like the way she's looking at us—as if she's reading us. I'd buy her just to thrash her for that haughty dead pan face she wears!"

The older man sighed at his son's annoying display of arrogant adolescence. With a growl he grabbed the boy's shirt collar. "Lay a hand on any of these children, and I will repay your insolence in triplicate! They may be slaves to the Tribes, but they are still people, and they deserve to be treated as such.You are not yet a man, Gravitt, and so long as you live under my flag you will abide by my laws.Son, or no son."

The trader came up behind them then and cleared his throat, "Do you plan to make a purchase today, sir?"

Ziggrat sighed and pointed at the girl. "Her, and the blonde boy at the far right."

"The Death Child and the Quake Child? I warn you that the Setin sold them to us because they are just too dangerous. Both of them have Wild Magic that is incredibly powerful—and I don't think either of them have ever learned to control it."

"Do you want to sell them to me or not?!"

"Of course, I just felt it would be proper to give you a fair warning."

"I appreciate that, but--"

Gravitt interrupted, "Father, those kids couldn't even lift your saddle!"

"Silence, boy. Did it ever occur to you that maybe I am tired of having servants? Maybe it's time I had a family again?"

Gravitt felt the color leave his face, and his silver eyes slashed at his father, but the old man didn't even acknowledge the look.

"Your mother and I always wanted a large family, and look at these poor children! Enslaved by their very own people—stolen from the only family they've ever known."

"You don't need more children, Father. You need a stronger army! We could have so much more land and so much more wealth if we were to just conquer a few nearby towns."

"We have plenty of land and we have plenty of money. I want something else—something more meaningful, and I don't mind spending a little of _my_ silver for it.That's something else I wonder if you'll ever learn, boy.That there are more important things than money, or power."

"You're going to squander our fortune helping these brats, Father!"

Ziggrat muttered something under his breath, and walked away to make payment with the impatient trader. Gravitt scowled at his father's departure and then sneered at his latest acquisition. "What's your name, girl?"

"Sabre."

"Is that your given name or your family name?"

"My family is dead; I can't use their name anymore.I'm just Sabre."

"And you are from which tribe?"

"The Camilathe."

"They are the ones infamous for their riding skills, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you are the Death Child? I've heard of you. Aren't you supposed to be twin to the Storm Child?"

"Yes. Please don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever I want. My father is purchasing you as we speak, slave! Where is your brother?"

The girl's eyes raged with fire. "Dead. The Setin killed him."

"Idiots. Together the two of you could be quite useful to us, to me. We'd never have to worry about being attacked again—not with the two of you to defend us, that is.By yourself, you're useless, in a fight, anyway."

The girl scowled at him, her small frame pulling itself up to its full yet pathetic height, but she didn't speak.

Ziggrat returned, the blonde boy following him. Gravitt snarled as his father introduced the two children to him. _These poor excuses for human waste are more valuable as weapons...forget using them as playmates for me...playmates I do not want, nor do I care for...I don't understand your intentions, Father...and I doubt I ever will...You've become weak. When Mother died, you died with her..._

_ _

******

Gravitt called Brinson over to his table in the far corner of the room, "We're not going to wait until tomorrow. If we leave in an hour, we should make Vane before sundown. It's only a two-hour ride. Tell your red-headed lady friend to get the horses ready. Her son can stay inside with you."

The Tribal started to walk away, but paused as the portraits—specifically the one of the man—caught his eye.Noting the hesitation, Gravitt called him back and asked coarsely, "The man in that picture, do you recognize him?"

The blonde haired man scrutinized the painting, and then spoke in an even and neutral tone: "Yes. It's hard to forget someone who wears his hair in such a ridiculous fashion. Although when I saw him, he was older—or at least he looked older."

"I knew he was familiar. He was the mage in Nerak last December, wasn't he?"

Brinson nodded again, a placed a bit of cynicism upon his words, "Yes, the one I got the horse from. He was so drunk he couldn't even see his cards, let alone play them."

Gravitt sneered, "Excellent."

Brinson walked away, his ponytail swinging behind him.As he did, an older man, his face shrouded in a dark cloak passed him and took a seat at Gravitt's table.The Tribal stopped and turned back to get a better look at the newcomer, or perhaps to listen to what he wanted with Gravitt, but his master fixed him with a cold glare and a growl, "You have something to do, don't you? Then do it and rid myself of your presence." _If I didn't need you for this operation I would have killed you before we left Briggatt...I think I despise you more than the woman..._

Gravitt grinned at the man as he watched his servant bow and walk away. "Good help is indeed hard to find."

The stranger pulled at his glasses and for a moment the two stared at each other, the black depths of the hooded man's eyes seeming to somehow reflect the darkness within his own soul.With a mutual shiver, both men abruptly blinked and turned, glancing away from the other. "Indeed, although I still see you have the two that… your friend sent me and asked to let you borrow." 

"Yes, they do fair work, and the others actually believe they are Tribal."

"Good, but you better not risk taking them into the city. Someone might recognize them."

"I know. I figured they might be of use to you."

Readjusting the worn spectacles and then pulling the hood further over his brow, the older man rubbed the thick mustache under his beaked nose. "I have your wares. I only brought enough for you to do your demonstration. After that, you'll have to dispatch a messenger to me, and I will send the rest. You'd look suspicious carrying all of them."

"Agreed. The messenger will probably be me, though. You'll be at the Ruins?"

"Yes. It's now about half a day's ride from Vane. They moved it as far as they could into the forest—probably so they wouldn't be reminded of their own failure. I still think the top is visible from inside the city, though. It's a bit, crude, but it serves my needs."

"How...charming. Let me see what you brought."

The bearded man took a large silver canister out of his cloak and opened it. "Just use one alone at first—on a wine bottle or something like that. Do yourself a favor and make sure it's sealed or you'll learn an interesting lesson in the laws of physics and gravity."Noting the blank expression on the other's face, the scientist continued: "You'll need a magician around you when you use them though."

"Understood."

He put his hand in the cylinder and pulled out a handful of small emerald green stones, and then dropped them back inside one by one. "The next thing you should use them is a tree or a rock—nothing too big. Put the canister in an opening, or bury it somehow into your target.They will affect any large object near them, but I advise not leaving them exposed.You'll probably need a few wizards around for that to work—definitely not a problem to find in Vane.Try not to get clever with them.They are far more dangerous than their small size would indicate."

Gravitt took the plain looking container from the man and stared down into it, a malignant gleam of green light irradiating his features. Satisfied that they were intact, he closed the lid and asked, "You've already been paid?"

"Yes, by our mutual… friend."

"Good. I'll be in touch."

The elderly man pushed himself back from the table and nodded. "Happy travels. And remember, the word of Mia Ausa is law in Vane. Don't cross her, or you could end up dead."

Gravitt's face suddenly transformed into the epitome of virtuousness as he spoke: "Cross her? Never! I'm her biggest supporter. I doubt she'll recognize me, though. Last time I saw her, we were kids."

His companion stood up and smirked, "Let's see how long you can keep up that charade. Your friend on the inside will make himself known to you soon. Just keep a low profile until then, all right?" 

_A low profile in Vane? That's an oxymoron if I've ever heard one..._

As he watched the old man walk away, he felt a smile form on his lips. Looking back up at the two portraits, he grinned. _We'll make good use of you, Nash...and Mia, you're about to get something I'm sure you've been wishing for...and probably never dreamed possible..._


	8. Chapter Seven

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

Chapter Seven

_"Some people claim that there's a woman to blame, but I know it's my own damn fault."_

_--Jimmy Buffett_

* * *

He wasn't sure if the note was a request or an order, but recognizing the delicate script, he figured he'd follow its instructions anyway. It had been slipped under his door earlier in the morning, and even though it wasn't signed, the handwriting and the content spoke well enough from whom it had come. Written in an impassioned left-hand scrawl, it read:

_"Our friends should be arriving this afternoon, since the Festival starts tomorrow. While I am excited to see them, I will probably be tied up in meetings all day, so please greet them for me. Also, please ensure they are given respectable quarters in the faculty wing. I would like for the six of us to eat together this evening in my private dining room. I would appreciate your assistance in getting them settled and helping them find their way around. Thank you."_

He tucked it into the inner pocket of his robe, and although he knew that she could have easily delivered the message to him personally, he also knew that this was, by far, the least stressful way for them to communicate. He looked around at his new room and still hadn't been able to take much of a liking to it. Even after he had moved his things in the day after he fell asleep in the library, it just didn't feel like home. The room was too big... too impersonal...too something. No matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't think of it as his, and almost felt slightly guilty for taking up so much space by himself.

He closed the door behind him and stepped into the lushly decorated hallway. While this end of the faculty wing was mostly dedicated to his residence and office, there were always plenty of people passing by, today all offering a friendly hello or congratulations. People that only days before would have, at best, ignored him. He nodded or smiled at them, wondering if they were sincere or just trying to gain his favor. _So this is politics? Gregory was right...it's even more superficial than a one-night stand... and it still bothers me._

As he headed down the corridor, he passed a large window that overlooked the eastern side of the city. The two towers behind the Guild were casting their normal mid morning shadows, darkening half the streets of the city. They'd always seemed out of place—looming above everything else in sight and piercing the sky with their perfect forms. He knew first hand they were a necessity, but there was just something about them that made him uneasy. Perhaps it was the fact that they had survived the Fall without a scratch, or perhaps it was because the first could, and had only recently, unleashed all of the power of Vane. The second still contained a sacred shrine, but for what, he wasn't really sure, and didn't really want to find out. _Is there something as too much magic?_

From this window, just outside the wall, he could see the edge of the stable roof. They had chosen to keep the horses outside the walls for sanitary reasons, and although one or two had been lost to thieves, for the most part, the arrangement worked well. After the first two raids, Alastair added a sentry position out there for the Magic Corps, and after a few late night explosions were heard from near the stable, the bandit problem seemed to fade away.

_I wonder if she thought to put up a makeshift corral for this event? Most of her guests will be arriving on horseback and will need a place to put their mounts...I'll take care of it...she has enough to worry about..._

Nash pulled out the pencil and notepad he carried at all times from inside his robe and wrote himself a reminder to take care of it. He wasn't surprised that Mia had missed this detail—since he was the person who had introduced horses to Vane, he was usually the one to remember to care for them.

_I'll never forget the look on her face when I rode into Meribia on that giant bay... You'd think Mia had never seen a horse before. But then I can't believe it took us nearly six months to get the place even slightly habitable...at least I was somewhat used to living in a tent..._

The condition of the city after the Fall had left Nash little choice about his duties, as he had realized that he seemed to be the only one able, or willing, to step in and do what needed to be done. _I can't believe I found the courage to do that…but I felt I owed Lemia that much, at least…_

Those six, long, months, from June until December…before Jessica and Kyle got married…before…_Was it really that long ago? Almost four years now? _Even then Lemia's health had continued to fail and the healers on Black Rose Street had been powerless to change that. He had felt that Mia should stay with her mother, even though many things needed to be attended to at the construction site. So, he had volunteered to travel back and forth to supervise the work. He would leave for two weeks, then return for a few days only to turn around and head back.

Luckily, after conducting this exhausting exercise for almost a month and half, he ran into some horse traders in Dunart and had made a purchase. The horse was an even mannered bay, huge in size, but still had some speed in her. When he returned to Meribia astride, he had raised a few eyebrows, but he knew that this was the right decision. Instead of taking a day and half to travel he could make Vane from Meribia in seven hours or less—depending on how fast he felt like going.

He had hated to leave Mia on a weekly basis like that, but knew it was for the best. Every time he'd make the ride back to Meribia he'd try to get up the courage to tell her how he felt about her. But somehow, as soon as he had entered the city gates, the words he needed, and the courage to find them, always seem to vanish like the morning's mist.

He had noticed, as summer had turned to fall, when he did return to brief her on the construction's progress, he felt her demeanor towards him change. She no longer seemed willing to look him in the face when she spoke to him, and sometimes, it was as though she tried to avoid him all together. This had only added to his hesitation in speaking to her of his love, and it wouldn't be until he had a very long talk with Jessica that December, just before her wedding, that he would find his nerve..._though sometimes, now, I wish I hadn't..._

Shaking his head of regret, he continued down the hall, into the new faculty wing. It had been designed after the old one, but Mia had some additional quarters as well as extra common-type rooms put in. She wanted the staff to be less isolated than the teachers in the past, and felt that there should be space for people to talk and get to know each other. Sadly, even though most of the faculty had returned months ago, none of them ever took advantage of the new rooms.

The faculty dorms were larger than those for the students, and of course, they didn't have to be shared. They were all fairly generic—Mia also didn't want to show favoritism—each one had a large double bed, a desk, closet, and a dresser. He walked by his old room and opened the door. Inside it looked like nothing had been touched, which didn't surprise him much given how little time had passed since he'd moved. The walls were now barren of course, and the closet and desk empty, but it still felt like home. He closed the door stuck a note in the jamb, stating that he would be using this room for guests of the Guildmaster.

Another vacant room just down the hall received the same treatment, and just for good measure he marked all the empty ones, in case Mia had any last minute guests that needed accommodations. Many would be staying at local inns, or camping outside the city walls, but just in case, he managed to locate another ten rooms. _I wonder just how many people are coming to this thing anyway? I better check student housing, too..._

He made his way down the stairs in the center of the hall and past the classrooms. Just in front of the cafeteria, he saw her as she approached him. He looked around for a hallway to sneak down, and avoid the confrontation, but it was already too late.

"Nash!" the deep female voice called to him.

He turned around to face the shorthaired blonde, and bowed to her. "Yes Master Robin?" He asked in an extremely formal and guarded tone as she walked up him.

"I have heard you accepted the position of Premier. Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"I trust Majesty Mia has explained to you the importance and distinction of this honor which she has been bestowed upon you, as well as all of your duties? You should be ready to carry them out shortly. Time is of the essence, you know."

_She…I thought you…the Council…Hmmm…__Classes start in two weeks...but why do I have the feeling that she means something else? _"She has. I will do whatever is needed for the Guild."

"Good. There is a trifle of a matter we need to ascertain, however."

"And what would that be?"

"The Council will need a record of your birth, or a family heirloom that confirms you were born into a house of nobility—a simple crest or seal, for instance. Last time we instated a Premier we let this pass, since he had saved our world. But, as you can see, that did not turn out to our advantage. Laws must be upheld, and when they are not, we are dealt the consequences. Personally, I'd rather not take that chance again. You understand, of course?"

He forced himself to hold a composed face, even as he felt his stomach sink into his feet and his jaws clench. "Of course I understand."_ With people like Robin on your Council, Mia, you will never fulfill you dream of bringing the egos down to the ground with the rest of Vane. _

"I realize that this may be painful for you, since you have always claimed your family is dead, but it must be attended to immediately. I know you're still unpacking, so I'm quite willing, as a gesture of friendship of course, to give you a little more time. Say, by the eighth bell tomorrow?"

"This matter has already been settled, Master Robin!" A voice boomed from behind Nash, which caused him to spin around and be face to face with none other than Mia herself.

He felt his stress level shoot through the roof. _Cornered by the Guildmaster and the Wicked Bitch of Vane! What? Settled? How?_

"Of course it has, Majesty. I just feel I had an obligation to confirm the… situation…. with Nash himself. Gregory's proposition has made it all so much more intriguing." She looked back to the short mage, a small and unpleasant smile on her face. "Maybe you should just go back to finding your little books and reading them, Nash. It suites you so much better than this... distracting undertaking. After all, you do seem to have a…. tendency… to run away or overreact in volatile situations."

_Gregory? What have you done now?_

"Silence, Master Robin. Your objection was noted at the meeting, and it has no place outside those walls. Insulting your future Premier is not the way to earn my favor, and when you address him, remember that he is a Master as well. Unless you wish to direct your insults to me?"

Robin sighed as she opened the door to the cafeteria. "Of course, Majesty. Just remember your duty to the Guild, Mia. Look at this man and honestly tell me that he is worthy of what he is about to become—or have you not yet told him of _all_ his duties?"

_Told me what?_

Mia's voice was ice. "You know that is in the past, Master Robin."

"I do. At least I know that is your hope, Majesty, but not yet reality. I truly wonder if you have fully thought this out."

The Master of Healing Magic let the door close and disappeared into the dining hall, the scent of her distrust still hanging in the air. For some reason, standing there as Mia defended him to perhaps the most unpleasant person he could think of at that moment, Nash felt like himself again. His guard wasn't up, his tone was friendly, and for a few minutes, he indulged in it.

"I'm sorry, Nash. You know—"

"Yeah, I know how she is. I'm just sorry you have to put up with her." __

She laughed. "You will too, soon enough. Anyway, she's good at what she does—probably a little too good."

"Good at being a busy-body pain in the butt, that's for sure. Do you know I almost failed her class? I don't know why. I worked just as hard as everyone else—sometimes harder. Come to think of it, I don't think she's ever liked me. Nothing I ever did was good enough for her."

Despair filled Mia's eyes as she said, "I don't think anything anyone does is good enough for her."

_I hate it when you're upset..._ Nash forced a smile to cover his reaction. "She wrote me demerits once, too."

In complete disbelief she asked, "_You_ got demerits? What did you do?"

He smirked, "She caught Saltin and I jumping balconies and gave us each six demerits—which meant a week of kitchen duty. Ick."

"Do I want to know _why_ you were jumping balconies?"

A cloud of false innocence masked his face as he spoke, "We were peeking in on the girls' dorms and they saw us. I'd never heard so much screaming and shouting in my life when they realized we were there. Needless to say, we had to make a fast retreat and it looked like that was only way since neither of us were very good at levitation spells at that point." He winked at her, "Good thing she didn't know why we were running away, huh?"

"How old were you?"

"Twelve, I think. Saltin was a year older."

Mia gave him a playful punch in the arm. "Pervert!"

Pretending to be wounded and shocked, he rubbed his arm, "I wasn't a pervert! I was.... socially advanced!"

She laughed and smiled at him, whatever that had been bothering her moments ago now clearly forgotten.

_I always could make you laugh..._"It must be killing her that I'm about to be Premier."

She smiled, "Definitely, but she'll just have to get over it. It might do her a little good, come to think of it. She can be so…. annoying. If she wasn't the best healer in the history of Vane…" Her voice trailed off, then, after a far too deliberate moment of hesitation, she asked, "Are you going to eat lunch now? Would you like to join me?"

His facade switched back to the unfeeling statue he usually was in her presence. With a small bow he quietly replied; "Ah...no, thank you, Majesty. I am still taking care of the rooms as you asked. I will also see to getting a corral built for your guests' horses, since I doubt they will all fit in the stable."

He watched as her eyes followed her hands to straighten a bit of fabric on the skirt of her dress, her voice dropping with them as well. "I… see. I'm glad you thought of that. I certainly wouldn't have."

"Don't concern yourself about it, Majesty. It is my duty to see to your needs, spoken or unspoken. It will be taken care of shortly." He pulled the door for her, "Enjoy your lunch, and if you need my assistance with anything, you have only to ask."

She walked through the door, and looked back at him, as it swung shut behind her. He could not ignore the mystification (or was that pain?) in her eyes, and he knew exactly what had caused it—the swiftness and perfection of his transformation for no apparent reason.

_I've been playing the bastard for six months...how much longer can I keep this up? Six months...six months of pure hell for the both of us... but it is for the best...for her, for me, and for Vane...It's either this, or leave the only home I've known for the past eleven years...and while I know she needs me to help her, I must keep my distance... or destroy us both._

* * *

It was December, the coldest year he could remember and the clouds hung low and menacing on the distant horizon. Mia sent him on the mission—she wanted it done right, and in fact had wanted to go herself. It took two days of him begging and pleading for her to stay—it was far too dangerous he had told her, and firmly believed. He would go in her place. He was a better rider, after all, and he would take someone with him. Finally she agreed.

The mission? The library, what else? There were a series of books they needed—volumes she swore she absolutely had to have—a series on the magic of the Prairie Tribes. He knew why she wanted this, even though in the old collection they had been rarely, if ever touched. Mia still held to her dream of opening the Guild to everyone—no more Cave of Trials, no more students turned away only because they lacked a fine family name, or a clean tunic. These books would help in understanding some of their new students, and help those apprentices feel at home. (Not to mention helping the mages and faculty of Vane begin to better understand the 'Wild Magic' that the Tribes seemed to breed.) It was a sad fact, but a fact nonetheless, that the instructors had deliberately avoided that talent and the Tribes for centuries.

Ordinarily, he would have just ordered the book he needed by messenger, but since the Tribes moved around a lot, and could sometimes be difficult to find, this was something one of them would have to do on their own—especially since couriers had already tried four times and failed. In fact, the last messenger he'd sent had come back with tales of being lost in the Illusion Woods for at least a week. _As noble as her dream of diversity is, it is going to take an appalling amount of work to make it a reality. _

The only person he dared take on this little adventure was Gregory. For one thing his old friend, and former mentor, had spent much of his time outside of Vane, and knew his way around the continent. Even better was that the ageless mage was one of the few Vanetians who had mastered riding. But, finally and most importantly, there was a far more personal reason for his choice in a companion.

They left the morning after the fight he had with her, the one that made her cry and damn him for his words. While there was truth to what he said, he did realize (albeit a bit too late) he had been too harsh with her. Although he had apologized, and she had accepted, he still felt horrible and hadn't been able to sleep much that night. _She needed to hear that...I just wish I could take back how and when I said it...The night before a trip is no time for anger..._

Gregory had the horses ready and seemed impatient as they approached him. The salt and pepper-haired man adjusted the pack behind his bay's saddle and greeted them. "Good morning Majesty. Nash. I trust you slept well." The grin on the ageless mage's face spoke far too well that he knew that the separate rooms the two Heroes kept were only for appearances.

The cold December air hadn't produced any snow as of yet but by the look of the sky and the now rapidly approaching clouds it would soon. Both men were dressed in layers of clothing: robes with slacks, cloaks, overcoats, and wraps, with their Masters badges proudly worn on their outermost garments. Hopefully, as they headed south, it would get warmer but it was always best to be prepared, something Nash learned the hard way as he had stumbled through his last adventure.

Mia pulled Nash to her and embraced him, "Come back to me safe."

He kissed her on the forehead, and with a knowing look to Gregory he said, "I promise."

Nash glanced over her shoulder for a moment at Gregory. The elder mage took his cue and quickly turned around, busying himself with mounting his horse in silence. After a few minutes had passed, a forced coughing was heard, but they still didn't let go of each other. Finally, an annoyed tone broke their quiet embrace, "Are we going to leave today or should I take the horses back to the stable?"

Blushing, the two released each other and walked over to the horses. Nash climbed on his horse—a birthday gift from Mia the past April—an overly energetic dapple-gray mare. He did not like her; she was too fast and far too willful to suit him. Besides, he didn't ride enough anymore to even need to own a horse. But, as usual, he hadn't had the heart to sell her..._Can't look a gift horse in the mouth..._ He almost panicked for a moment as the horse danced aside as he swung himself up onto the saddle, almost spilling him to the ground under her nervous hooves. As he gripped the horse's mane he gave a rather embarrassed grin to Mia, noting that she wasn't quite fast enough to hide her own smile at his near tumble.

Mia pulled off the ribbon she wore in her hair and, reaching up, handed it to him as he sat astride. "Remember, be careful."

He kissed her hand as he took it and said, "I promised, didn't I?"

The horse would not stand still any longer, and became more anxious as her rider waved the flowing object just inside her line of sight. With virtually no warning, she leapt into the air and raced off with Nash holding onto her mane for dear life.

He heard Gregory shout from several horse lengths behind, "If that horse doesn't kill you, I will! Slow down!" They raced out of the city gate, startling the few citizens who were awake and rousing many more with the noise of thundering hoof beats.

After he regained his balance, Nash looked back over his shoulder and saw Mia standing under the arch of the entrance to the city, framed like a picture and waving. He lifted his left hand--the one with the yellow ribbon--up to return the farewell. It fell from his grasp and danced in the wind, just outside his reach. He tried to capture it, but nearly fell off his horse. This just made the mare more excited, and she raced forward, somehow finding more even speed in her small body. Sitting back down on her, he managed to pull the animal up and slow down just a little, but when he looked back again, both the ribbon and Mia were gone.

For a week they rode, stopping each night and setting camp. The journey to the Prairie was about as exciting as watching grass grow and the days of travel seemed endless for Nash, who just wanted it over with and to get back to Vane and Mia. Gregory tried hard to keep him entertained with stories of people he'd met, places he'd been, and some of the things he'd seen and done in all his unknown years. Still, no matter how he spun his tales or how ribald the jokes he told, he'd been unable to lighten his friend's mood or ease his impatience.

Nash's horse didn't make the trip any easier. She would constantly try and run ahead, forcing him to draw up on her reins, which in turn just made her more excited and even harder to control. Twice the small mage had used all of his strength to pull the mare back at the last instant, cursing at her under his breath. He had begun to suspect that the beautiful animal actually did have it in for him. _It's a vicious cycle. I need to get rid of this horse. Sorry, Mia, but this animal and I are NOT going to get along._

Finally, late on the seventh day, they reached their destination. Nerak. A rough village trapped somewhere south of Tamur—somewhere near the Prairie—just another almost non-existent state between here and nowhere. Though, he thought ruefully, it was one of better-known entry points to the prairie. Nash knew this place; he had been here before once, long ago. All that now seemed like another lifetime, one he wasn't sure he should try to recall anymore.

* * *

The arrival of the two Vanetians caused quite a stir in the small town. While travelers were a common occurrence there, two such respected and well dressed men stood out in the crowd. The inn was full, so they took a room on the tavern's shabby but very serviceable second level. When the proprietor recognized Nash as one of the Heroes from a surprisingly accurate picture on the wall, he refused to take any sort of payment, and made sure that all their needs were met without delay. _Funny how the barkeep picked me out...the pictures they use don't look anything like real people, let alone us... I know word can travel fast, like a fire on the prairie, but this fast? _Though he usually enjoyed being the center of attention, there was something about this unexpected popularity that seemed to worry him.

The mages didn't get to spend much time looking for the man they needed to see. When word of the Hero's coming spread, just about everyone in the town, as well as the surrounding farms appeared out of nowhere and flocked to the small mage. Several tried to convince him to take their children back to Vane, sure that they were gifted with magic, but he could only reply that once the Guild reopened anyone who wished to study would be welcomed, but that day was still many months off. He wasn't sure, but he almost regretted saying, "I'll send a messenger to the Prairie when we're about ready, and you can bring them yourselves."

Nash felt a little guilty as Gregory watched from the background with a warm smile at all the attention he was getting. All day he was showered with words of thanks, handshakes, gifts, and even a few propositions from several unexpectedly attractive young women. Numerous times he tried to slip away from his admirers, but was always held back by someone he just couldn't turn away. Before he knew it, the sun had set. _I might have to sneak out in disguise tomorrow…_

Still annoyed at having to spend another night, Nash ordered dinner and took a table for himself and Gregory. As they were waiting for it to be prepared, a barefooted little girl, barely older than seven, with green and black ribbons plaited in her white-blonde hair, approached him. Following close behind her was an overly energetic black and white puppy. She walked up the Hero, her eyes wide with admiration and nervousness. Wordlessly, she picked the puppy up and held it out to him, bowing her head. In awe of the child's obvious selfless action, Nash's hands didn't move from his sides. The child lifted her head and spoke to him in a language he thought he had forgotten long ago.

"Please, sir, I want you to have him. His name is Kyan. He's a little young, but he'll make a good dog someday."

It took a moment for Nash to find his voice to answer the little girl, and in searching for it; he found that language—his native language. "I'm honored by your gift, little one, but I can't accept him. See how he needs you?"

She closed her eyes and put the dog back on its feet, defeat creeping on her face.

_I can't believe I forgot refusing a tribal gift is a statement against honor!_ The magician was horrified for a moment as he realized he had just insulted the small child in one of the worst possible ways. He quickly reached down to pet the small dog as he spoke to her, trying to undo his prior statement. "I just don't have the time to train him the way so fine a hound deserves, but I would be honored to have him. Tell you what, you take care of him for me, and train him as he should be trained, all right? You can bring him to Vane when he's ready, and you're big enough to travel yourself. Okay?"

A little sigh of relief escaped the girl's mouth and she hugged her most prized possession. He smiled at her and gave her a kiss on the forehead, then patted the dog. "You better get home before dark. Your parents will worry."

She nodded and started to walk away before he called her back. "I almost forgot, if you're going to take care and train him for me, I should give you some kind of payment, shouldn't I?"

The ragged little thing stared at the mage for long moment, her mouth hanging open. Ignoring her shock he smiled as he reached into his pouch and pulled out a handful of silver coins, placing them into the pocket of her jacket, and knowing that she had never seen that much money. She bowed to him again, and then ran off, her puppy at her heels.

_I really don't deserve any of this…Alex does…and the others, but not me._

Nash's knowledge and use of the tribal tongue caused a few people to turn and look at him, in particular someone who had just entered the tavern—a tall man with blonde hair and beady dark eyes. The stranger made his way across the room towards the two Vanetians, and smirked at them as, uninvited, he took a seat across from them. The man's dark robes had given him the aspect of scholar but this illusion quickly vanished as his spoke; "I hear you're looking for some books."

Gregory responded, "We are...but where did you get that information?"

"I think your tribal speaking companion there mentioned it to the barkeep. He's an old friend, and since I collect books, I thought I might offer my services."

Nash suddenly felt edgy. He turned his head and let Gregory do the talking.

"Do you know which volumes we require?"

"Not yet. But tell me—I'm sure I have them, or can obtain them… For a reasonable fee, of course."

"The series is called 'Studies of Wild Magic on the Prairies of the Stadius Zone.' Are you familiar with them?'"

The blonde haired man nodded, "I've got those. But I wonder why you need books on such a topic when you have someone who has first hand experience!"

Nash felt his face go white, but Gregory played dumb. "Oh really? And who might that be?"

"Don't be stupid old man! That young mage you travel with...he obviously knows something about the Tribes if he speaks the language."

"Languages are easy to master, especially for the brightest students of Vane." The older man surprised the merchant when he replied in the same tongue (though heavily accented) that Nash had used with the girl. Slipping back into the common language he concluded in a harsher voice; "I also suggest that you don't call me old man again, or I may be forced to give you cause to regret your poor choice of words… for many long and painful years. Now go get your books so that we may inspect them. Then, perhaps, we can discuss your… reasonable fee."

The book collector gave a look of disdain and shock to Gregory, but walked away. "I'll be back shortly, in an hour or so. I trust you have more silver than the pittance your… friend just threw away."

After he was gone, Nash shook his head, "I'm an idiot...I shouldn't have..."

The older mage laughed as he gently touched his student on the shoulder. "What you did was beautiful, my boy. You made me proud to be your friend."

Dinner arrived and they ate in silence, and just as they were finishing, another patron of the tavern interrupted them. "Testadurra?" The slurred voice asked, standing between the two Vanetians.

Nash looked up at the man and nearly choked on his food in horror. That name...he had almost forgotten it...his family name and one he'd not heard since...the fire. It took a moment for him to recognize this dirty brown-haired reprobate—a Prairie mage by the name of Rauchic.

As Gregory saw his friend's nightmare becoming real, he interrupted the man with a haughty irritated tone, "You should show some respect to one of your Heroes. Don't you recognize Nash of Vane?"

The man's face twisted with hateful triumph, as he leaned closer to the young mage and ignored the older man. "I knew it was you. Cigol's boy, right? The Storm Child? Look at you now! A Vanetian and Hero to boot." He gave a coarse laugh. "Who'd 'a thought it…"

Nash tried to keep his voice even but felt it waver in his throat, "I believe you have mistaken me for someone else."

"No, I don't think I have. I never forget a face—and yours is such like your father's—or a Gift for that matter. Besides, how could I forget the brat that almost killed me with a strike of lightning while I was trying to read his Gift for his parents?"

Covering his face with his hand, the Hero tried to look away. _Mother was right...all Testadurra men look the same...Dammit....I knew it I knew it I knew it!_

The man looked around, "And where is that blasted twin of yours? That little bitch brought me closer to death than you did!"

Nash stood up, his face emotionless, but his voice barely above a terse whisper. "Dead. I'll thank you not to insult what few memories I have left of my family." He turned and started to walk away from the unkempt drunk, motioning Gregory to follow. _I knew this would happen! And if any of these people come to study at the Guild...I'm as good as dead. They'd laugh me out of the city...And Mia…What would this do to Mia?_

Rauchic followed them, and reached out, taking hold of Nash's robe. "Now don't you run away like that, Testadurra. What are you afraid of? The fact that your fancy friends won't accept a tribal brat as their savior when word gets out about what you really are?"

Nash spun around, his robe sweeping around his small frame as he faced the man again. "Shut up. Let's go, Gregory."

Rauchic snickered and grabbed the badge on the Hero's clothing, ripping it half off. "It will all come back to haunt you, Stormboy! You can't hide forever! Why, come to think of it, last time I was up your way I heard a rumor that you were sleeping with the Guildmaster of Vane! I wonder if she knows her lover is really just a tribal runt, and not the purebred Hero he claims to be!"

Nash's eyes narrowed as rage and horror filled him. Without thinking or hesitating, he began to call down a storm—one bolt of lightning and the old fool would shut his mouth for good. He was about to cross his fingers to cast the spell when Gregory grabbed his hands, pulling him backwards. "No, Nash. Forget him. He's not worth the magic."

The drunken man staggered away, and out the door, laughing and pointing at the infuriated Vanetian. "You can change your clothes, you can change your name, but you'll never change what you really are, Testadurra!"

"You should have let me kill him!" Nash hissed to Gregory, barely controlling his wrath.

"Why? Vicious satisfaction? I thought I taught you better than that."

The bartender watched the exchange between the three men before sliding a drink to Nash. "I think you need this. Drink it fast and it won't hurt so much."

The young mage watched as Gregory turned around to speak with the book collector who had just returned, fortunately missing most of his exchange with Rauchic. He saw his companion shake his head as he grabbed the drink and downed it in a single swallow. His features twisted in pain as the liquid burned his throat, but he took a seat at the bar nonetheless and motioned the barkeep for more. _Kyle always said he felt better after drinking away whatever was troubling him...might as well give it a shot...I haven't got anything to lose…_

* * *

Nash had only been drunk a few times in his life and _never_ this drunk. The first few drinks had eased the pain and clouded the memory of the troubles that awaited him in Vane, at least for the moment. In the background he could hear the conversation, occasionally heated, that Gregory was having with the bookseller to wrap up _his_ mission. He forced himself to tune it out. He didn't care about those idiotic books at this moment. He had other problems—more important problems—and he doubted any of the information contained within those tomes would be able to help him. Nothing would help right now.__

Another drink or two later, the now blitzed magician watched as Gregory swept past him, heading towards their room. Even in his completely inebriated state, Nash knew he'd done it again. Just by the way that Gregory had departed, without even a passing glance in his direction, it was clear that his oldest friend, his mentor, and the one person who knew everything about him, was obviously disappointed in him as well. _Well...that's two people I've managed to let down tonight..._

Out of the blur of the room, a blonde man wearing Tribal ribbons and glasses approached him, absently shuffling a deck of cards. "I hear you're the owner of that pretty little gray mare outside."

Nash was surprised at the energy it took to find his words, which still came out slurred. "I am. She's out of the top bloodlines—and full of speed and spirit." With a great deal of effort, he straightened himself to his full height, trying to hide his intoxication from the other.

"I know. I saw you ride in on her. My lady friend was just admiring her."

He looked around, the room and people within just appearing as one big haze. "Where's your lady friend? If she can ride that horse, she can have it!" He shook his head fuzzily. "No, I'd wager that nobody can stay on that horse but me, and even I can barely control her."

"Wager? She's not here at the moment, but if you're such a betting man, how about a game of cards? I win, I get the horse."

"And if I win?"

A simper formed on the blonde man's face. "I'll give you.... 2000 silver."

"That horse is worth at least twice that!" He felt a sly grin form on his face, though it seemed to take an enormous effort to create it. "After all, she was a gift from the Guildmaster of Vane!"

"Really? You know Mia Ausa?" The man asked in obvious disbelief.

"Know her?! I sle… I… We… We're like 'this!'" He held up the first two fingers of his right hand, twisting one over the other to make them look like one. The gesture barely held for an instant before his fingers slipped. He stared at his palm, and then tried to force the defiant digits together them with help from his other hand. But his body would not cooperate, and the second they were together, the fingers slid apart once again.

"Of course," the man said with a snicker, watching the mage's gross display of insobriety.

Knowing the other did not believe him; Nash tried to point to the half ripped seal on his robe, but missed by inches. "I'm from Vane."

"I wouldn't have guessed," the Tribal replied dryly as he pulled a gold tiara encrusted with emeralds and rubies out of his cloak, and gently placed it on the table in front of Nash. "Now, how about that wager? Your horse is mine if I win, and, if you win, this is yours. I'm sure _your _Guildmaster would love it."

The magician stared at the golden ring in bleary surprise for a moment. Then, tossing back another drink and almost falling back onto his chair he slurred; "All right... Deal." He ignored the faint alarm that seemed unable to penetrate the alcohol-induced miasma in his mind. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he stared at the seductive tiara instead of the Tribal, who had begun to shuffle the cards with a skill that would have terrified a more sober gambler.

* * *

Nash wasn't sure how long it took for him to become aware of the voices and movement around him. His eyes felt heavy, so he left them closed as he listened to the sounds, wincing at the unusual loudness of everything. As his senses became aware, his nose twitched at some wretched stench. _Something...smells...horrible..._

"We would've moved 'em, but I think people were having fun laughing at 'em too much last night," called a rough and accented voice.

"A glass of water, please," a much more familiar one replied, in a slightly irritated tone.

He felt a chilly liquid hit his face and opened his dazed eyes to see Gregory standing over him with a cup in his hand, but made no attempt to lift his head off the table. "Dammit! Why did you go and do that!" _Everything is so...bright...ugh..._

"Get up. We need to leave."

"My head hurts," he whined, as he sat up. In this labored process, he located the source of the odor on his clothing and the table. _I vomited on myself? I don't even remember that...Gross... At least I didn't get any on my pants…_

"Self-inflicted wounds don't warrant pity, not from me anyway. And don't you dare ask if I know any hangover remedies. You've more than earned this one."

Gregory grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, I got your books. We need to pack up, clean you up and get another horse, since the bartender tells me that you lost that pretty little thing Mia gave you in a game of cards."

_Oh shit...oh shit...oh shit...oh shit..._

Nash took off his stained and stinking robe, pulled the hanging badge off of it, and handed the garment to the bartender. "Get this cleaned." __

The man pinched a clean segment of the clothing and took it behind the bar, clearly annoyed at having to even touch the thing, much less take orders from a hung over Vanetian.

Wordlessly, the two mages walked back to their room. Partly supported by his friend, Nash still held his head and fought the nausea rising in his throat. _My stomach, my head...**everything**...hurts... why the hell did I do this to myself?_

Pushing the room's warped door open, the older man eased and guided his friend to the worn bed at the far end. Nash sat down slowly, supporting his aching head between his knees with his hands. Gregory took a seat next to him, staring towards the closed door in silence. The young mage didn't even need to look to see the despair and disillusionment frozen in his friend's azure eyes. _I'm sorry Gregory...you had to take up the slack for me..._

After a long moment, Gregory sighed, putting a gentle hand on his friend's now bare back. Finally, he spoke, his voice that same sympathetic and tender tone Nash had come to know though the years. "I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice, my boy. You know I rarely do this, but since you're the closest thing I've ever had to a son, I'm going to stick my nose where I know it's not wanted."

With some effort, Nash sat up, and he listened. Gregory seemed to know best. No matter what the problem was, this man, his oldest friend and mentor, always seemed to know the words that would make things right again. As Gregory spoke, Nash started at his Master's badge. Turning it over and over again in his hands, he realized the ends were starting to fray, and the golden seal of Vane—an eagle with it's wings spread wide—seemed to have lost its luster.

"What you used to be, and what you are today cannot be two mutually exclusive events. Your past, my boy, is part of your present, and it is part of your future. At one time, yes, you were Kinashua—"

Nash interrupted, muttering in a tone full of misery, "Don't call me that. I don't deserve that name. If I ever did, I certainly don't anymore."

"I believe you do, but regardless...Let's face facts. Yes, You lived in a tent. Yes, you killed your own food. Yes, you rode across the Prairie with a family that loved you. Then, suddenly, and by no fault of your own, you were forced to give that name and that life up in order gain entrance into the Magic Guild. You studied hard, and with your extraordinary natural talent, you succeeded beyond the expectations of most of the faculty. You amazed them with your talent and your Gift—far beyond what even the oldest families of Vane could have claimed." A grin crept across his face as he added, "Not that many of them would be willing to admit to that."

Nash shook his head in dramatic torment as his life was repeated to him, but Gregory kept a firm hand on his friend's back as he continued.

"While that past life—Kinashua's life—had to put on hold for you to survive and accomplish all of this—not to mention your feats of the past few years! It is time you accepted, if not embraced, that life again. You can't keep hiding from it forever. Time may run slowly, but he is steady, and he will catch up with you."

"I can avoid it. I've been avoiding it for eleven years. What's a few more? No one will—"

Gregory interrupted the spew of self-pity, his velvet voice not even coming close to finding an edge. "Pay attention, Nash! Don't you think that Mia deserves to know the truth? You share your dreams, your life, and your bed with her, yet you refuse to share your past?"

The younger man felt his face flush as Gregory summed up his relationship in a complete sentence. "She deserves the truth, yes. But she also deserves better."

"That's not true, and it's not for you to decide." The ageless mage took his former student's hand in his own and shook it gently. "Take it from someone who has lived lifetimes of regret over a woman he should have married."

Nash tried to blink away his disbelief, "What?"

"It was years before your time, but like you, I was in love with a Guildmaster. Like you, I would have done anything for her. She could have snapped her fingers and told me to jump off the roof of the Library—and I would have, without question! Everyone teased me for my childish devotion to a woman who almost young enough to be my daughter. She was beautiful, intelligent and incredibly powerful—just like all Ausas before and after her. She returned my affections, and asked me to be Premier of the Guild—and then she asked me to be her husband—but I turned her down on both."

Stunned at this revelation, Nash asked bitterly, "Why? It's not like you were just some homeless tribal brat."

Gregory shook his head, frowning at the other. "I never thought I'd hear you talking like Orinth or that stuck up mother of his. Don't you remember the Prairie Tribes have a rich and noble tradition? These people—your people—are incredible and righteous warriors, and have produced not just one, but two, Dragonmasters."

Freeing his hand from his friend's, and nodding in response to the history lesson, Nash tried to brush his long bangs out of his face, but they just kept falling down. Frustrated, still nauseous, and trying to absorb all of this, he just managed to say, "Yes, but to Vane it makes little difference."

"That's not true and you know it, especially after all you and she want for the Guild. To answer your question about why I turned _my_ Guildmaster down…Her reign began when she was only fifteen, and…and I was already teaching at this point. She was one of my students for heaven's sake! Also, back in those days…" He paused, sighing, "Never mind that, Nash. You never were one for history. Just know that there were plenty of excuses I fooled myself with, some valid, most not. I was about twelve years too old for her, she was one of my students, we were from different worlds." He muttered under his breath, "Very different worlds."

Nash raised an eyebrow, but Gregory continued without missing a beat, "But really, what did it come down to? When she needed me, I ran away. Why? Because in my head I firmly believed that she could do better than just some third-rate illusionist. I felt there were far more experienced people there to be Premier, but she thought I would be good at it for some reason. I just didn't think I could live up the responsibility—and I was afraid of letting her down."

He paused, and rubbed his forehead, "As far as being her husband, while I wanted to, I just couldn't—because, again, I didn't have any faith in myself. There was a long part of my life where I forced myself not to get close to people. My Guildmaster tried to teach me that this was the wrong way to feel, and I…I couldn't, or wouldn't heed her words. So, I left Vane—and her."

Nash looked at his mentor with a face full of astonishment, as the older man shook his head and continued, "I still regret that I listened to the Orinths, the Tamoras, the Robins, and the Premier at the time--I had been his apprentice and I hung on his every word! They all reinforced my fears by telling me that I was too…mature for such a little girl." He gritted his teeth, "I was much older than they thought! I didn't always live in Vane, Nash. I've been around for.... quite a while." He must have seen the young mage's shock, for he took a deep breath and regained his composure. "No matter how you look at it, it's simple--I was afraid to get hurt, and perhaps more importantly, I was afraid of hurting her."

"Gregory, this is so much different!"

"No it's not! You are faced with the same dilemma that I was, and you're hesitating for far less cause! Now is the time to make a decision, my dear boy! Nash, if you're lucky, life gives you one shot at true love! You can either live a life of lies and regret as I did, or you can take a chance on happiness and ride back to her and tell her everything."

"You make it sound so easy..."

"It's not easy, and that's a fact of life, son. It's only a matter of time before someone from here or the Prairie gets to Vane and recognizes you. It will sound better coming from you than from someone else, although I guarantee you that it will make little difference to her."

"And what about others in the Guild? Do you think Master Robin will accept it?"

"Forget about Master Robin. That woman needs to find a husband or a hobby. I really don't know nor do I care which. When Mia takes you for who you really are, the rest of the Guild will, too."

Nash stood up and stretched, still in deep consideration of his mentor's words. Walking over to the decrepit dresser, he looked in the dusty mirror, examining his current condition. _I look like hell..._With a sigh, he mumbled a few words under his breath and snapped his fingers near his head, a wave of static dashing through the air around him. The electricity bristled against his hair and pushed it back into place. He smoothed it with a hand and watched in the mirror as the man behind him grinned.

"I always wondered how you got that silly cowlick to stay put. I should have known it was magic because that is just _not_ natural, my friend."

He turned around to Gregory, a new resolve in his eyes. "You're right. Let's get back. I need to do this. I need to tell her the truth."

"That's my boy. You finish packing and I'll go get you a new horse."

Looking through his travel bag for another outfit, he simply said, "All right."

Gregory started for the door, but then paused as he turned to his former student, a strange, almost indescribable look on his face. "Oh, on a side note, I would have rather been a 'homeless tribal brat'--as you so eloquently put it--than someone condemned to walk the world for eternity."

"Huh?"

"Just a little joke," Gregory said cynically. "After all, you and your fellow students have always called me 'ageless.' Don't think I don't notice these little things."

Before Nash could respond, the door had closed behind the man who was the biggest enigma of Vane. _Just how old are you, Gregory?_

* * *

It took about an hour, but soon they were packed and ready to go--Nash's headache still killing him. The new horse Gregory bought wasn't as spirited as the gray one, and both of them were a little relieved for that. As the younger mage went back into the tavern just one last time to make sure they had gotten everything out of their room, an old woman approached him. Though her clothing was worn and travel stained, her face held a presence and serenity that even through the pain of his hangover he couldn't ignore. "You are the Hero, aren't you, boy?"

"They've called me that, though I still don't..." He shook his head for a moment. "Well, I guess I am, what can I do for you?"

"I have walked from Tamur to thank you, son."

"You're welcome, but I can't claim credit alone."

"I'd like to give you a reading. It would be an honor to read a Hero."

Nash did not have the fondest memories of fortunetellers; the last one he had befriended used her tales to get him to do her bidding. "I'm sorry, but I don't have time. An urgent matter awaits me in Vane."

The woman smiled at him, "How right you are. You are clairvoyant, too then?"

He stared at the woman, "No, I'm not."

"Please, I've walked for almost two days... and I fear for you and yours."

With a sigh, and his curiosity growing over the strange woman and her mysterious comment, he sat down at a table and motioned for her to sit opposite him. He closed his eyes as she held up her open palms towards him and felt her reaching into his mind.

Not even five minutes later she patted his hands, and when he opened his eyes, her face was desperate as she said, "Fear awaits you, and a loss your heart will never accept." The old woman's eyes grew unfocused as she began to softly chant the details...

_By storm and flight, by Midnight bright. _

_Through loss and gain, and heartfelt pain. _

_In chaos born and power found, _

_A test to find if your heart be sound. _

_By horse, by foot, by airborne flight. _

_Your soul is tested, in it's own dark night. _

_A dream imperiled and a life soon lost, _

_Another life saved, at a terrible cost._

She fell silent then shook herself as though waking up from a long sleep. "Quickly, child. Ride back to Vane, and stop for nothing. You just might make it before it's too late."

"Too late for what?"

"I can't see that, the curtain has closed it away from me now. But whatever it is, it's going to change you. It's going to hurt you—and it involves someone you care for deeply."

_Why do they always see things in cryptic messages? What good are those?_

He stood up and thanked the woman, then ran for the door, shouting to Gregory to mount up. They would ride day and night, stopping only once—and certainly not by choice. But it wouldn't be until he got back to Vane, that things fell apart.

* * *

Nash continued down the hall past the cafeteria, trying to concentrate on his task of finding lodging for Mia's soon to be arriving guests. A few apprentices had already shown up—mostly those that had been here before and were young enough to remain in school—but for the most part these rooms were unoccupied. One or two students saw him and smiled, or waved, and one even bowed respectfully, but he kept conversation to a minimum. _I still have to take care of the corral...no time for small talk..._

After he finished tagging rooms—his notepad looking rather skinny—he headed back the way he'd came, ready to go outside and find some stable workers to build a makeshift fence. Just as he reached the corridor by the dining hall in which he'd had the exchange with Robin earlier, an all too familiar form came striding towards him. He felt his heart sink as he recognized the approaching figure—it was one that he had been successfully avoiding for quite some time. _It seems today is my lucky day..._

A tall, black-haired man, near his own age and dressed in only the finest formal robes approached, his snaky smile speaking of some sort of mischief he was about to cause. Nash felt a cold anger, fueled by years of contempt, rise from within him the closer the man moved. _Orinth..._This individual had caused him more grief during his time at the Guild than any combination of people whatsoever. Orinth, the Son of One of the Elders, never did get over being ousted from his place at the top of the class by 'The Nameless Wonder' as he so affectionately had dubbed Nash. On top of their rivalry in school, Orinth always seemed to be just a little too friendly with Mia.

"Hello, Nash. Congratulations."

"Thank you," he said, not making eye contact and trying to pass this uninvited interruption as quickly as possible. _Would it be too much to ask for you to NOT talk to me?_

Orinth didn't let him have the satisfaction. He held an arm out and trapped Nash against the wall. "I hope you intend to talk Mia out of some of this nonsense about letting anyone in who wants to be a part of the Guild. After all, traditions and standards must be upheld."

"I don't think they matter any more," he said, again trying to get away, but the man just leaned closer into his face. _Why don't you just ask Mia? Oh I forgot, she's not talking to you..._

"I disagree, but I'm sure you know best, old friend." He dropped his barricade, but stepped closer to Nash. "Oh! I almost forgot, please don't hog all of the upper level classes for yourself. I know you're Premier and all, but the rest of us will need a break from the mundane basic levels."

Nash tried to slide away. "I haven't done the master schedule yet, but I'll keep that in mind. I have things I need to do, if you don't mind, Orinth..." _Don't you dare call me friend, asshole...and I'll make sure you get the most unpleasant classes...as a...professional courtesy, of course..._

Orinth smirked and moved even closer to him, whispering, "Ironic that you were chosen, wouldn't you say? I mean, considering all the harm you did to this place." He smirked, his hazel eyes flashing maliciously, "And to Mia."

Nash glared into the face his rival, eyes narrowed, "I never hurt Vane, nor did I hurt Mia. Although I believe you may have had more to do with the latter."

The black haired man straightened up, but glared down at his colleague. "Ah, some how I doubt that. You and your little tizzy fit and thunderstorm did quite a bit of damage if I recall. Why yes, now I remember, it put us at least a month behind schedule…and how she cried when she saw the destruction!" He held his finger up in a wagging gesture, and tapped Nash on the chest with it. "Ah ah…now don't try to deny it, your signature was all over that little drizzle you called up."

His rage was starting to rise, and he threw his body weight forward toward the larger man's chest, trying to push him back. "Shut up! I have things to do, things much more important than listening to you and your idiotic ramblings!"

Orinth moved to the side before Nash even touched him, just for the entertainment of watching inertia taking over and making the smaller man stumble forward and almost land on his face. He snickered as Nash caught his balance and righted himself, straightening his robe as if nothing had happened.

Fixing his eyes on the mage whom he despised, he started to speak, but Orinth stopped him with yet another sarcastic remark. "Important, oh yes. I'm sure you have lots to do what with classes starting two weeks after this little party of Mia's. I hope you don't mind, but I just don't think I'll be able to call you by your soon to installed title. Nothing personal, old friend, but I just don't feel that such a mantle should go to a nameless little boy who still has temper tantrums."

"I don't give a damn about the title!" Nash gritted through clenched teeth. "Just leave me alone!"

The tall man leaned back over him, pinning him against the wall again. His voice was quiet and menacing, as a sneer played on his lips. "Odd isn't? I mean, you didn't even have to take, let alone pass, the Master's Exam. They just went and gave you the badge. Now I know you saved the world, and I know that the city was in ruins at the time, and I know you had a lot to do with rebuilding it, but there are a lot of us who just can't help but wonder if you didn't just sleep your way to the top."

His eyes narrowed as his voice trembled with rage. "Now you're insulting Mia. Shut up or by Althena you'll live just long enough to regret it!"

"Is that a threat? From the new Premier to one of his staff? Highly unprofessional, Nashyboy. Very bad form."

His retort was spoken between closed teeth, as he grabbed Orinth's collar. "Call me that again and I'll kill you with my bare hands. Staff? Don't make me laugh! And no, that's not a threat. It's a promise! I should have killed you when—"

"Oh I doubt that you would have done that. It's against Guild law to use magic against another member," Orinth replied dismissively.

"There are ways other than magic. As a mage you're pitiful, as a swordsman you're not even a joke."

Orinth laughed at him, backed up, and pat him on the shoulder condescendingly; "You're rather cute when you're mad. Now I know what she saw in you!"

His hands were sweating and he could feel his power starting to rise within him as he pushed the tall man away. "Don't you dare touch me!"

Orinth laughed again, feeling the obvious rush of magic coming from the small mage. "Don't you try any of that childish little lightning of yours on me! I'd beat you in a moment. I was always better than you—at _everything_, Nash."

In a voice that could only be described as primal he growled to the other, "Go to hell!"

Orinth smirked again, waving a hand as he spoke in his usual flippant and arrogant tone, "Thanks for the invitation, but no." He tapped his cheek in false thought, "You know what I think is funny? I think you're already there! I do so enjoy watching you give your pathetic doting stares to the former object of your affection, only to turn to stone when she does speak to you. It's rather amusing, and fitting I do believe. Don't you remember when we were in class and I told you that you never stood a chance with her? You should have listened. It might have saved you all of this entertaining little heartbreak."

Shaking with rage, Nash spun his burgundy robe around him as he turned to walk away. He was not going to let Orinth get the better of him, again. No. This piece of trash had been doing that for eleven years. He would NOT get the satisfaction of seeing his new Premier enraged—especially while others were around. _I won't let it happen. Just walk away…he's an ass…a miserable ass with too much time on his hands…._

Orinth snickered as called to his long time adversary, deliberately getting the attention of a group that had just left the cafeteria. "Just a piece of a friendly advice old friend. I really think it's time you found a new hobby. I'm sure there will be some pretty little girls in the new classes. Maybe some naive enough to even sleep with you! You could grade them on their performances!"

Nash stopped in his tracks, and then marched back up to the disgusting person. He kept his fists clenched at his sides, trying to prevent himself from doing anything stupid as he now pinned the tall man against the wall. In a grating whisper he spoke, the words dripping with caustic loathing; "Seducing little girls seems to be more along your habits, _old friend_. Especially once you've poured enough wine into them."

Orinth held his hands up, waving one of them facetiously, "You're still holding a grudge over that? Can't we just put it behind us? It was all just a misunderstanding. Besides, it didn't take much wine, or seduction." His smug smile faded as he saw the storms begin to rage in Nash's eyes.

_Misunderstanding? There is no misunderstanding. You don't like me, I don't like you...you miserable..._

Orinth slipped away from the wall, and walked quickly down the corridor a few yards. A dirty smirk on his face now that he had his distance. "You know, it's so pathetic that you're always the focus of her thoughts... especially at those particularly... _inappropriate_ moments. She could do so much better than a half-assed Hero who's no more than a second rate lightning bug." With that he turned and sauntered down the hall, nodding with his snaky smile to the handful of faculty members that had been near enough to have seen, if not heard, their confrontation.

Still enraged, Nash stormed off in the opposite direction, heading outdoors to find some stable workers to build a fence. His mood must have shown too clearly on his face and stride, because people stepped carefully aside as he passed them on his way out of the Guild. _I came to despise Ghaleon…I even learned to despise myself…but I've never truly hated anyone before… Congratulations…. Orinth… you've just taught me that lesson quite well…_

* * *

Chapter Six Index Chapter Eight


	9. Chapter Eight

equation8

**_If Love Were Only Part of the Equation_**

Chapter Eight 

_"How can we know the dancer from the dance?"—W.B. Yeats_

Brinson followed Gravitt and an overly-businesslike brown haired apprentice (who hadn't even bothered to offer them her name) down the maze of streets towards the Magic Guild. The girl had been called over by the guard at the gate and, after rather a curt comment, was told that the guests were her responsibility. Her eyes had taken a walk all over them as they had surrendered their weapons to the captain, and she didn't even bother to hide her disgust at the two rough looking men and the small boy. So, with little more than a nod, she had turned and walked towards a distant, looming building, pausing only briefly to be sure they were keeping up. _Gravitt is such an idiot…to think it would have taken us more than an hour to get here from that village…his sense of direction may get him killed one of these days…we should be so lucky…_

The path from the city gate to the enormous Guild Manor was surprisingly short and direct, until their guide ushered them through its ornate entrance. The atrium of the building held two curved flying staircases winding upwards towards the ceiling—the centers of the two upper floors cut out, making the place seem like it stretched to the heavens. Mages leaned on the silver rails as they engaged in conversations, their voices quietly echoed within the marvelous edifice. _I can't believe this…I've never seen anything like it before…_

The apprentice quickened her pace as the group passed some other students who were snickering at her. Walking briskly to catch up, Brinson didn't have much time to gain the bearings of his surroundings. After only a few turns, all the halls began to look alike to his prairie-trained senses. 

He smiled to himself as Gravitt grunted under the load of his bags. For this trip his employer (his master actually) had to carry some of his own belongings for a change, or risk someone becoming curious about the true relationship between him and his 'business associates.' But then the tall Tribal frowned, realizing that they were in character for a reason. _I really hope I'm wrong about him being up to something… Please, Goddess, don't let him try anything here._

Darian trotted alongside him, and was getting quite a few smiles from the female mages in the halls as he gave a quick and excited wave to each of them. _He has such charisma… I know he didn't get it from his father…_The boy turned back to Brinson, and he gave the child a wink, which just drove him into further giggles, much to Gravitt's annoyance. 

Up two flights of stairs and down still more corridors they went, the girl remaining totally silent and her displeasure increasing with every passing minute. Finally, in a small voice that was obviously intended to be overheard, she began muttering something about getting stuck with the country hicks while someone else got to escort the Heroes. As they came towards the end of a hall on the third floor, she yanked a small yellow slip of paper out of the jamb and looked back at them. As she crumbled the note, there was the clear sound of doubt in her voice. "You said three, right?" 

"Correct," Gravitt replied. "The other two I was expecting had a sudden change of plans. They won't be here for the….Celebration. They may join us afterwards. My sister in law is tending to the animals and will be here shortly." 

_That makes me ill…_

The girl shrugged and responded flatly, "Makes no difference to me." She put a key in the lock of the wooden door, and then turned the bronze latch. Entering first, she made her way quickly to the opposite side of the room, not lingering to notice, or enjoy, their reactions to the sight. 

Brinson stopped in his tracks and looked around. The room was as unreal and mythical as everything else in this city had seemed. Decorated in muted blues, and appointed with luxurious furniture, the sheer opulence of the dwelling made Brinson's jaw drop. Although intended clearly for a single occupant, It certainly wasn't small. Just like a castle in a fairy tale he had once read, only this was so very real and so much more romantic. 

An ornamental rug covered most of the cold marble floor, and a large and elaborately carved wooden bedstead--the headboard engraved with the winged symbol of the famous city--filled much of the room's left wall. A thick comforter lay over what was obviously a feather stuffed mattress, rather than the straw or wool that even the wealthiest city-dweller enjoyed. The fireplace, although small, was more than adequate for even this large a room. Its mantle was adorned with some kind of hieroglyphics, and a small supply of books stacked atop it. A small study desk and chair sat next to the bed, a capped glow globe casting a soft light onto the writing surface and it's matching quill and inkwell. To the right were two narrow doors; a large oak and cedar-lined chest sitting between them. Even Gravitt was taken back by the unexpected luxury of the room and his expression showed it. _Even artwork on the walls…this is unbelievable…_

As Brinson forced his mouth closed, the apprentice pulled open the drape of the single large window, inviting the afternoon sunlight to bathe the room in a soft yellow-orange glow. The rays, combined with the tones of the furniture, gave the place an even more magical ambiance. Gravitt had walked over to the window, and was looking down and to the west, when he asked, "What's that behind all the trees?" 

"The Premier's garden and pool. Don't even think about going down there." 

Gravitt, although evidently displeased with the girl's tone and remark, somehow managed to keep silent. Brinson smiled to himself, and watched as their reluctant guide stepped over to the slim door on the right and opened it. "Okay, this is your closet. I suggest you use it to hang your cloaks and whatever you plan on wearing to the festival. That way you can remove the wrinkles and let them air out some…. I suspect any anyone that happens to be near you… will be thankful for it." 

The girl didn't even pause long enough for Gravitt to respond before she moved on to the door nearest the window. While Brinson was used to being spoken down to and insulted, he knew his master wasn't, and the look of anger in Gravitt's eyes made him shrink within. _For once in your life, Gravitt, keep a grip on that temper of yours._

"This room may be something you're not familiar with… we borrowed the design from Meribia and our architect made some improvements. To my knowledge, we are the only two cities to have this luxury, and they are certainly much more comfortable than outbuildings. Anyway, we call it a privacy room--or if you prefer, a privy. The basin is rather obvious, by turning the stem on the pipe above it you can fill it with water. Just please remember not to leave the cork in the drain. If you do then you'll have to clean up the mess. As for the larger bowl--the one with the seat over it? Well, I'll leave that to your imagination… though if you know how to use an outhouse I'm sure you can find your way around the toilet. Just be sure to run the water until it's clean--your neighbors will appreciate it." 

Gravitt gave both of the objects an impressed look as the girl made the water run down each one to demonstrate how they worked. 

Sarcasm began to replace the bored litany in their escort's voice. "Speaking of appreciate, we passed the communal showers for men four doors back. Ladies are three. I would suggest you both take advantage of them before you go out to meet anyone." She wrinkled her nose at the two. "I'm sure you don't wish to…offend?" 

Apparently relieved that her job was done, she pulled Gravitt's hand open, and dropped three bronze keys into it. "The next two rooms down this side of the hall are yours as well. Here are the keys. And do try to keep the noise down. The Premier's quarters are just at the end of the hall and he's a very busy man. Please don't be bothering him." With that she turned and left, not even looking back at the two men still staring into the privy. 

Gravitt was silent for an instant, clearly torn between his surprise at the room and his rage over the girl's arrogant attitude. He glared down at the keys in his hand as though they had become serpents and slammed one of them into Brinson's palm. "I don't need your services yet, but stay close, and don't get any pretty ideas. You'll need to feed yourselves this evening. I have a meeting to attend, so you'll have to find something to… entertain yourself with until I return. I put some silver in your pack, more than enough for your stay here… I suggest you make it last. Dress like a gentleman in public." His eyes became harder, almost demon-like as he continued, "And a simple warning; I better not hear of any performances you and your lady friend decide to give at local taverns. One mistake, one action or word that brings any unwanted attention to any of us, and you…" 

He paused, as they both turned to see Darian climb up onto the windowsill with a bit of a struggle and press his nose against the glass to stare in wonder at the view. Leaning forward the cruel man gave the balance of his statement in a harsh whisper. "I mean that, Quake-Boy, you keep your eyes and ears open, and your mouth shut. You and the bitch are already on my short list--my VERY short list. One more slip, one more screw up, and the crows are going to eat very well. Do you understand me?" 

Brinson gave a nervous nod as a sneer crept across Gravitt's face. "You should feel honored, I've never given anyone a warning before… In any event, the boy stays here until I tell you or her otherwise. Now get to your room." 

Without much of an acknowledgement, Brinson left, first giving a somewhat shaky and forced smile to Darian. He put the key in the lock of the door next to Gravitt's and was surprised when it didn't fit. _Figures, he didn't even look at the thing before he gave it to me. _ However, it did open the next one down, and he smiled as he saw his room; a carbon copy of Gravitt's, but decorated in rich plum tones. 

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. With little more than a shrug he dropped the heavy pack and bag he'd been carrying, walked to window and pulled open the heavy drape. He had to blink back tears from the brilliant sunlight, and it was a moment before he could begin to make out the details of the ground below. _Interesting, there's a small ledge that runs the length of the room…_He unlatched the window and pushed it open, leaning out slightly. _ And it runs the length of the building too, from Gravitt's room and down to… to… Hmmm, what's this? There's a balcony over there, with some pretty fancy stonework stairs… I wonder if that's the Premier's garden that girl was talking about? It would be tricky, but I'll bet I could work my way down there… _He smiled to himself thinking of some mischief he could   
get into, but remembered Gravitt's warning and reluctantly closed the window. 

Stepping back, and busying himself with the task of unpacking, he threw his few belongings into the closet and the cedar chest, before falling backwards onto the soft bed. Staring up at the ceiling, and grinning, he closed his eyes and held onto his thoughts for a few moments—an indulgence he was rarely allowed—especially with Gravitt around. 

_I always dreamed it would be like this… and I do have some degree of freedom for a change, for the moment at least …there are things I need to do…but can't I just enjoy myself? This place is incredible…So… comfortable, so clean. It's not like any of the places that I've ever been. I've always wanted to return to the prairie, and never see a city or town again, but this? This is different… Wait til Sabre sees…SABRE!!_

He scurried off the bed, her name still ringing in his head. As always, Gravitt had assigned her to take care of the horses. But she hadn't returned yet—or had she? She would probably hate this place. It was fancy—too fancy. Regardless, he had to find her—if nothing else to just see her reaction to Vane. Besides, he had best warn her that Gravitt was going to be watching them closer this time, yet simultaneously making them self sufficient. It was already very strange. _This time I can feel it, he is ready to do something… and would sacrifice all of us without an eyeblink's hesitation._

He slipped out of the room, nearly forgetting to take his key, and subconsciously looked up and down the hall, searching for Gravitt. He carefully knocked on the door between his room and his master's. No answer came, and he glanced around again as he wandered down the hall, determined to find her. He had only traveled one corridor when he realized he had absolutely no idea where he was. _Wait a minute, there's a staircase. We came up a staircase. It was a lot fancier than this one, but maybe I'll see something downstairs I recognize._ With that he quickly walked down to the first level, trying to keep the noise on the plain wooden stairs to a minimum. Once on the first floor, he stepped into a much wider hall, one with glow globes hung from the sides of the painted and stenciled walls and the floor covered by a thick red carpet. It was populated by a surprising number of passing girls and boys, all quietly talking to each other and dressed in tunics or dresses, which seemed to be a uniform of sorts. He felt out of place in his rough riding clothes, but these seemed to attract little attention. Or they were ignoring him--something he'd come to expect from most city dwellers. 

He passed a room where something was obviously going on behind its enormous (but tightly closed) double doors. A loud male voice was being projected over whispers, and he stopped to listen to the muffled sounds. He really couldn't make out what was being said, but it sounded like a meeting of sorts, an unruly one. _I shouldn't be so nosy, but it has proved to be a handy habit…and helped keep my hide intact more than once, so…_

As he paused near the door, he didn't notice a form approach him from behind. It wasn't until a rustle of fabric scratched the tile floor that he spun around in a moment's panic. Suddenly, he was face to face with a beautiful black haired woman, who stared at him in some surprise. She spoke in a soft (if not a bit frazzled) voice; "I'm sorry I startled you. I'm late for the faculty meeting—it started at five. Oh! If you're looking for dinner, we won't be serving it until tomorrow night. I just hadn't planned on anyone arriving early. I apologize for that—poor planning on my part, I guess. I'm sure you'll be able to find something at the Mage's Staff though." 

He stared at her in a daze as she blushed slightly, "I'm guess I'm not supposed to know about it, but I do. It's a small tavern just outside the city wall—on the east side. Both the students and faculty take some of their meals there and it's open quite late." 

"No, that's…no trouble." His words were sincere, but he was still mesmerized by the stunning woman. 

"Can I sneak past you? I really need to get to that meeting," she said, flashing a smile so perfect that it left him speechless. He managed to give her a shy smile as he pulled the door for her and stepped aside to let her pass. 

"Thank you," she whispered, giving him a gentle touch on the arm. 

His eyes followed her—her dress sweeping behind her as she disappeared into the room. Brinson stood there for a moment, brushing the spot on his shirt where she had placed her hand. He stared at the now closed door and pondered the familiarity of the woman. _She reminds me of someone… But who?_ He smiled as he heard the voice that only moments before had been roaring above the others pause, and the din cease on the mysterious woman's entrance. _I don't know, but I do know Sabre's going to kill me if I don't find her soon._

Back down the suddenly empty hall he went, passing vacant classrooms on his right and left. Out of the blue, (and coming from just up ahead in the hall) a spew of curses caught his ear, so he followed the sound in hopes of finding someone to get directions from. 

The source of the language was—to Brinson's immediate surprise—a woman of average height and build. Standing on a chair, and scowling at the door's crooked top hinge, she gave him little more than a glance. Then, with a snort and still ignoring his presence, she added a few more colorful adjectives as she shook her head. 

Circling around the worker in an effort to get her attention, Brinson was able to get a better look at the foul-mouthed female. Her plain brown hair was sticking out from under a bandana and her clothes were completely out of place for Vane. Instead of the formal gowns or carefully tailored robes so common here, she wore a loose and rather stained shirt half-tucked into a pair of well-worn work pants. Even more unusual was the tool belt that hung off her waist at an almost sensual angle. _This is a Vanetian? She'd look more at home in one of the towns, or even on the prairie._

"Excuse me?" 

His voice seemed to surprise her as she turned to him and gazed at him appreciatively. "Hello…handsome. What's your excuse?" 

"What?"_ I don't think any woman has ever looked at me like that…so this is what it feels like when we do it to them? I'm…I'm not so sure I like it…_

She put a hand to her hip. "You just said excuse me—never mind. You look lost." 

"I am, I guess. I'm trying to find the stables." 

"I'm trying to find my mind. What's your name, Blondie?" 

Heat rushed to his ears as he said, "Brinson, why do you ask?" 

She grinned at him as she jumped off the chair with a bit of fanfare. "I don't talk to strangers." 

He tried not to laugh. "Oh, I see. And who are you?" 

"I'm Artie to my friends, Artemus to those that aren't my friends. I'm Chief Engineer and Architect of the Magic Guild, if there was such a title, but there's not." She fixed him with a quick look from her dark blue eyes. "I hope you're going to call me Artie." 

"Okay, Artie… So what are you then?" 

Artie kneeled down to a box of tools on the floor as she spoke, her tone friendly, amusing, and distracting all at the same time. "I'm the Mia Ausa of the flat head screwdriver, sweetie. The Gadget Maker in Chief, Queen of the Quick Fix, Master of Blueprints, or just the person everyone screams for when something's broken. Right now I'm trying to get this door hung right. My guys didn't do a good job of reading the level when they put it in." She shook her head ruefully. "Not that that's any major surprise." 

Brinson smiled to himself in disbelief at this enigma of a woman. "Can you tell me where the stables are?" 

"I could if I wanted to, but I'm rather enjoying your company. Give me five minutes to fix this, and I'll show you myself," she said as she stood up and, with a smile, handed him a level. 

Brinson looked down at the polished wood and brass-capped ends of the tool as he balanced it in one hand. "Fair enough. I guess you could use some help?" 

She climbed back up onto the chair and smiled at him again. "Sure…thanks. Now hold the door up for me while I loosen the hinges and straighten how it's set." 

Brinson did as she asked, watching her spin the screwdriver with a finesse that made him impressed and jealous at the same time. Everywhere he looked in Vane there was polished brass, silvered bronze, or other rare and hard to find metals. Wooden dowels had held most of the construction he'd seen before; Vane was rich indeed to be using materials like this. "So you know all about building and fixing things, how's that? I thought they only taught magic here." 

Artie motioned for him to hand her the level and she laid it along the side of the door, "Tap it just to the left. Once more…almost… There, don't move. Now hold it steady." 

Brinson froze and supported the heavy oak door as the engineer tucked the level under her arm. Without barely a pause, Artie pulled the screwdriver out of her belt and began tightening the hinge screws, speaking as she did so. 

"Well, they really do, and that's what I came here for as a kid. My family has been building boats in Lann for centuries. When my parents realized I had a Gift, they sent me here. I wasn't even really asked if I wanted to learn to use it. Some Gift, so I could make ripples in the water… very small ripples." A frown crossed her face as she continued and fought against a stubborn screw. "Anyway, I somehow passed the Cave of Trials and found myself in class. But I hated it; I wasn't a mage. I never wanted to be a blasted mage! I just wanted to build things, like my family's done since, well… forever. The other students used to make fun of me because I always slacked off in my studies and spent all my time reading up on construction and architecture. Ghaleon almost expelled me because my grades were so low! Maybe he should have, I was ready to leave anyway. 

"Then the world went totally insane. I went with everyone else when Mia evacuated the city and watched from a hill when Vane fell. I couldn't believe it, y'know? I didn't want to watch, but I couldn't tear my eyes from it. Then, after that, I went to Meribia with the rest. That's when they realized they needed someone like me—someone who relied on good old tools to do the work rather than magic." 

"Poetic justice, in way, I guess." 

"Something like that. But I didn't think even poetic justice would taste so bitter." She paused and tucked her screwdriver back into her belt. 

"It must have been horrible," Brinson said, knowing full well it was an understatement. 

"Yeah, it was. As much as I didn't like magic, I had friends here, so I guess helping them rebuild the city was only right. Anyway, let it go, let's see how she swings." Artie pushed the door and it fell right back into place. "Mental note. Don't let magicians read levels." 

Brinson laughed, "So you going to show me the stables now?" 

She nodded, "I have to get out there anyway. Nash wanted me to get a corral built. I doubt my guys have gotten very far on it—men cannot measure worth a shit. Hell, some of them can't even tell six inches from a foot, if you know what I mean." 

It took a moment for Brinson to understand what Artie was implying and another to shake the shock from his face at her blunt and unexpectedly crude reply. 

Seeing his response, she giggled, "I hope I didn't offend you. I had eight older brothers and I grew up in a fishing village. Hell, I've heard it all, seen most of it, and in some cases even tried it." 

He smiled at her, "No, you didn't offend me. Caught me off guard a little, but that's okay." 

She winked at him, "Good. I was hoping you weren't like some of these ultra-proper mages who lack a sense of humor." 

"I resemble that remark, I think," a voice from behind them said. 

"Speak of the devil," Artie muttered to Brinson. 

Brinson looked at the man who had appeared behind them; his features and stature were oddly familiar. It didn't take more than a second for his mind to make the connections…the portrait in the tavern…the mage from Nerak. Although here he was cleaned up and dressed in a fine burgundy robe, there was no mistaking him- especially with the silly curl to his hair. _I hope he doesn't recognize me…_ Brinson fought to control the reaction on his face, carefully keeping a neutral (albeit slightly curious expression) while panic recoiled behind his tawny eyes. He stepped cautiously to the side and watched the exchange between the two Vanetians. 

"I heard that, Master Artemus," the man said jokingly. 

She scowled at the man, "Don't call me that, Nash. You know I'll have to hurt you if you do." 

He smiled at her and offered a hand to help her off her perch, "Just teasing, Artie. You'll need to get used to your title." He looked over at Brinson, "Who's your new assistant?" 

Artie didn't take his hand. Instead, she planted her palm on the short mage's shoulder and used it as leverage to leap off the chair and land between the two men. "This guy? This guy is Brinson. I kinda found him wandering around and put him to work." 

"Oh? I thought indentured servitude had been banned some two hundred years ago? Be nice to our guests and prospective students, Artie. I think Mia would like to make friends and allies, not mortal enemies. By the way, how's the corral coming?" 

She pulled the pencil out from behind her ear, and then yanked a notepad out of the back pocket of her pants, crossing something off her list. "Heading out there to check on it right now. To be honest though, piss poor planning on someone else's part does not automatically constitute an emergency on mine." 

Brinson noticed that Nash was obviously used to Artie's colorful language, for he didn't even flinch as she continued her rant. 

Artie looked up from the notepad and down to the mage (who was a good inch shorter) as she said; "Besides the things I'm doing for you and the other counsel members, Majesty Mia gave me a list a mile long." She waved the notebook at him and shook her head, her tone finding a bit of annoyance. "Please tell her to either get me more workers or to make up her mind. If I have to waste manpower on painting another room a different color because she's having another damn mood swing or someone on _her_ staff forgot to order the right color carpet--" 

"I'll mention something to her," he said guardedly. "I'm sorry if you're feeling pushed or used from all this—just know you're not alone." 

Artie's voice softened, "I know. I can only imagine what things you're having to put up with. Don't worry about it—but don't think you don't owe me one for this." 

"I owe you more than one, Artie. I know that." 

She gave him a playful poke in the chest, "And don't think I won't collect on them—someday." 

He flashed her a charismatic smile, and then changed the subject. "You know, come to think of it, I don't recall seeing you at the last faculty meeting." 

The woman grinned at the mage as she restored her pencil to its home behind her ear, "I had things to do other than listen to you, Nash. What did I miss?" Not waiting for his answer, she turned and began gathering her equipment. 

Brinson watched as Artie bent over to collect her tools, a small smile growing in appreciation of her comment and the fact that her action had presented an unexpectedly interesting landscape. He wasn't surprised when the other man gave him a knowing look after admiring the view as well. 

"Are you two done drooling yet or should I bend over again and give you another look?" Artie winked at them as she turned and straightened up, holding up a hammer with a shiny head. She gave a sly smile as she spoke; "It's almost as good as a mirror. A bit distorted, but then so are you guys." 

Both men looked away, beyond embarrassed at being caught in the act, and finally Nash spoke, breaking the awkward silence that had followed: "Ah… Not all that much, I only called it to remind everyone that we are accepting anyone that wants to study magic, and that the faculty should be prepared to answer questions and interview prospective students." 

"I'm sure that went over real well," she supplied dryly, putting the hammer back. 

The magician shrugged and looked at the blonde haired man, "Some people here don't want to change. Don't let that stop you from taking classes, though. Don't worry about them—let me worry about them." 

Brinson nodded, not really knowing what else to do. _He thinks I'm a new student here? At my age?_

"Anyway," Nash continued, "I also said that I wanted everyone to go out and enjoy the Festival and that I expected to see _ everyone _ at all the receptions this week. That was it." 

Artie scoffed, "Oh I'll enjoy it—when it's over." 

He laughed at her. "Maybe, but don't forget that I still want you to teach that class in your trade. Don't even think you're going to be able to get out of it." 

Artie raised a doubtful eyebrow at Nash as he smirked at Brinson, "Watch out, once she puts you to work, it's hell to get out of it." The mage paused, his smile faltering for a moment as a look of near recognition crossed his face. Then, with a distracted shake of his head, he turned to leave. "Just make the next faculty meeting, Artie--and start working on your class outline." 

She called to him as he made his way down the hall, "Yeah sure, just use some of that hocus pocus of yours to whip me up some forty hour days and I'll get _all_ of it done!" 

Nash grinned as he made a pretend casting gesture towards her, and then turned to continue on his way. 

Brinson felt a weight roll off his back as the man left. "Who was that?" 

Artie said, "I must have said his name three times! Didn't you pay any attention at all? You're as bad as those kids he wants me teach. That's Master Nash, one of the Heroes and our soon to be Premier. Some people don't care for him, but he's okay, when he wants to be--usually. At least I don't mind him. To tell the truth, though, his female following makes me sick." 

"Female following?" 

"The 'ever so proper' ladies of Vane that swoon whenever he's around. It's sad really. Everyone knows he's got it bad for one woman, even if she treats him like crap." 

"You sure you're not just jealous?" 

Her reply came almost too fast and emphatic. "Of course not! I mean, Nash is a nice guy, or at least he treats me well enough. But he's not my type. Any man who can't swing a hammer can't be all that good in the sack, y'know? Now you, on the other hand…" 

Brinson felt a blush rush across his face—and realized that Artie had managed to get that reaction out of him more times in the few minutes he had spent with her than any group of rowdy drunkards he'd known in his entire life. "Sorry but I'm spoken for." 

Artie gave an exaggerated sigh and winked at him as she picked up her toolbox. "All the good ones seem to be these days." 

The engineer motioned for him to follow her, and together they strode down the hall, through another web of corridors, and finally out a door near the rear of the Guild. Brinson quickly became even more confused as he tried to keep up with her. But, the moment they stepped outside, and the sun was on his face, that familiar sense of North and South returned to him. The two of them made a quick right turn and walked to the main street of Vane. As they began wandering the down the wide lane, Brinson's attention was focused upon the work being done on the city. Streets were being cleaned, market stalls were going up, and corners claimed by merchants--often in loud and angry voices. Artie whispered to him, "We're going to pull an all-nighter and decorate the city with banners and such—sort of a surprise for Majesty Mia. It was Nash's idea…but I don't think he'll be out here to help. Typical leader type, lots of suggestions but very little 'hands-on' when it comes to putting those ideas to work." 

It was with obvious relief that Brinson greeted the sight of the stable and its still half-completed corral just outside the city gates. With a small smile he nodded to the woman. "Thank you, Artie. I think I can find my way now." 

She smiled at him, "It was nothing." Narrowing her eyes in the distance, and noticing that the spacing of the posts was drastically uneven, she growled, "I'm going to kill them! I'll catch up with you later. Taken or not, you still have possibilities." 

Brinson watched in amazement as the engineer jogged off towards her workers and began haranguing at them with language that would have done a tribal shepherd proud. With a bemused grin, he stepped into the barn and began poking around its stalls and spaces looking for Sabre. Yet no matter where he peeked, she was nowhere to be found. However, he did see Matze; locked up in a huge, but clean stall, her head hanging out the top of the Dutch door. The proud mare whinnied at him as he started to walk past her, and he felt compelled to stop and give her a scratch on the neck. _Looks like even you got the best place in the house…_ Just then, an all too familiar voice echoed through the stable as its owner's appeared in the huge barn door, making his heart sink. It was Gravitt. 

The large man sauntered down the aisle of the barn flanked by Brinson's new engineer friend. Gravitt had an arm around the woman's shoulder and was obviously turning on the charm, something that never failed to run a shiver down the Tribal's spine. He nodded to Brinson in a manner that was almost sociable as they walked up to him. "So you're Artemus, the brains behind the rebuilding of this place?" 

_Stay away from her, Gravitt…_

"I wouldn't go that far," Artie said, giving the blonde man a look that fully told of her distrust of his employer. "I just fixed some minor things, drew a few floor plans--nothing special." 

The large man shrugged off her humility. "From what I hear, this place was almost beyond repair—without you, it would still be just a heap of dirt." 

"Not really…who told you that?" Artie ended the sentence with a desperate look to Brinson, as if begging him to get the man away from her. 

"One of the guards at the city gate." Gravitt turned to the Tribal, noticing the look the female shot him. "Do you two know each other?" 

Artie spoke before Brinson could, "Yes, he's is a friend of mine, and I need his help. Can we continue this discussion later?" 

Gravitt smirked, recovering faster than expected, "Brinson, old friend! I almost didn't recognize you in those riding clothes! Why didn't you tell me you knew this wonderful young lady! Don't you see what a small world it is, Miss? Brinson is my business associate." The large man slapped a hand onto his shoulder, leaving it in place as he gave it a brutal squeeze. "Why, He's practically family. Aren't you old friend?" 

Artie produced a bit of a surprised look, but Brinson, trying to hide the wince from the sudden pain in his shoulder, couldn't find the courage to meet her eyes as he spoke. "It's true. Gravitt is one of my friends. I've known him most of my…life. It's okay, he's a…friend. You can trust him as much as I do." _Actually, you should run away…as far and as fast as you can…_

The huge man smiled—it almost even looked genuine—at the woman as he released the grip on Brinson's shoulder, pulling the hand back with an airy wave. "The guard also said that you offered your services free of charge. I admire charity like that." 

_Sure you do…you think charity is killing children…_

"Thanks," Artie said in a quiet voice, her strain of skepticism dropping just a hair, but her glower burning holes into Brinson's chest. 

The snake continued, his hollow gray eyes showing the twisted workings of his mind as it processed all of this information for later use. "I've been wondering, and since you know all about building and such, tell me, will Vane ever fly again?" 

"I wouldn't even begin to guess about that. I deal with reality, things you can hold in your hand or pound into shape with a hammer. I don't deal with magic. Ask one of the wizards here for that answer." Artie's tone was defiant and cold—it was clear she still didn't trust him. 

"You've got quite a lash on your tongue, little Miss. I just asked a civilized question, and as a friend of a friend, I would have hoped you to answer it." 

Artie frowned as she glared at Brinson--his face still dark from his forced lie. "Pardon me for being cynical. I'm just tired of that particular question." 

Gravitt gave a particularly well-rehearsed smile at the girl. "I understand, but would you indulge me? I don't care what the wizards here think. I asked you—like you I put more faith in mechanics than magic." 

Artie's sigh seemed say that if she didn't answer this idiot's question, he'd never leave her alone. "I can say from an engineering standpoint that I doubt it. I'm really not sure how they kept the damn thing in the air in the first place. To raise the city would take a miracle. I don't even think the Silver Spire has that much magic." 

"The Silver Spire?" 

Artie cocked her head as she played with the hammer on her belt. "One of the towers—it's supposedly home to a lot of magic." 

"I see—it just stores magic?" 

Brinson saw Artie shrug, but then he looked away, that feeling of dread, fright, and everything else that went along with Gravitt's scheming returning to him. He heard her words, but he tried not to listen--it would only make matters worse later on. "I'm not real sure; stores, generates, distributes, or preserves it in a mason jar. I don't really care. All that I know is that it and the Tower somehow survived the Fall—oh, they were tilted, something fierce—I'd say a good 20 degrees off center. I didn't have a clue as how we were going to fix them—not that it was a priority at that point anyway. Then, the second a Guildmaster shows up, they straightened themselves as though nothing had ever happened. Heck, I never even got to lay a level on them." 

"Fascinating. I'd like to know more. You see, I am completely useless when it comes to magic, and it has always intrigued me. Something of a hobby, I guess. Like studying music yet not being able to sing." 

_Artie, for the love of Althena, don't tell him any of your city's secrets…you can't trust him and you shouldn't trust me, either…_

"Well I'm not the one to talk to about the Spire or the Tower for that matter. Like I said, I don't mess with magic. I guess you could ask Majesty Mia or Master Nash…or maybe one of the other Heroes. They all used it when Ghaleon attacked Vane." She paused a moment. "Actually, you could ask any of them right now if you really wanted to. It's not too often they're together." 

"All the Heroes are here?" There was a bit of panic in Gravitt's voice. 

A rare feeling of satisfaction touched Brinson as he saw the expression on his master's face. _Something you probably didn't plan on, Gravitt?_

"Oh yes. I saw them arrive. They made quite an entrance—all of them. I mean, how can you miss a Dragon landing? Dragons are not something you see every day—not even in this crazy place." 

The large man gave a gruff laugh as he looked away for a moment to recover his composure. "Ah… yes, I guess that's true enough. Anyway, it was nice to meet you, Artemus. Should you ever find yourself looking for employment, please let me know. My city has suffered greatly the last few years, what with storms earthquakes, and other problems, and could stand some renovations. You've done a marvelous job here with Vane, and I would be willing to pay you well for your work." 

_Right, Gravitt. Storms, earthquakes, and other 'problems'… of your creation, by your command or neglect… Your father left you one of the most prosperous cities in the world, and you've all but destroyed it._

Artie gave a brief nod to Gravitt. "Thank you, but I claim Vane as my home—even if I don't always fit in. I could never leave it." 

"I understand," the large man said, his tone laced with practiced sincerity. "I'll leave you to your work. Please be gentle to Brinson—I need him for some presentations this week." 

Gravitt headed out of the barn, and Artie waited until they were alone before she spoke. "You work with that guy?" 

The blonde haired man rubbed his face with a hand as he replied, "Yes. I mean, well he heads our delegation—from Briggatt." 

"He gives me the creeps. It's hard to believe you would associate yourself with him. You seem like polar opposites." She didn't give him a chance to answer before wondering out loud, " I don't know why a trader would be so concerned about the Spire, though." 

Brinson hesitated for a moment--he wasn't sure of the reasons himself now, but knew Gravitt well enough to be worried. "Strange things seem to hold his interest. I imagine he'll forget about it soon enough, his attention span isn't too great. Anyway, my friend isn't here like I hope she'd be so I may as well go back to my room. I hope to see you again soon, Artie." 

"She? Now I'm jealous," the engineer said with a wink. 

Brinson smiled. "I'm sure we'll meet again—and if you need help, let me know. I'll be around for the festival." 

The engineer rolled her eyes, "Oh the festival" She gave an embellished slap to her forehead as she continued in a sarcastic voice: "Thanks for reminding me, that on top of everything else I have to finish overnight I've got to stay up and play 'nice' all day tomorrow." She shook her head as she turned to go. "Well, maybe it won't be so bad..…Sure thing, thanks Brinson, see you tomorrow." 

Before she could step away, he pulled on her shirt sleeve and whispered, "Artie, remember one thing: Appearances are all too often deceiving, but first impressions are painfully accurate. Please, never forget that." 

She gave him a puzzled look, and he didn't dare to try and explain his statement. Feeling an unusually sharp pang of guilt over not being able to tell his new friend the truth about Gravitt (or himself for that matter) he kicked some dirt on the stable floor as turned and left. _I am a coward…I am no better than he is…_

Making his way back through the city, he stopped and finally took a good look at the place. Aside from the huge Manor, there were houses and shops; all brand new and all sporting the same luxury in their brickwork as the Guild itself. The streets invited him to venture down them and take a closer look at the architecture, but his conscious reminded him of his mission to find Sabre. _We'll have to go exploring tomorrow…_

He returned to the huge building and weaved back down the halls, passing the familiar dining hall and classrooms as he tried to retrace his steps to their rooms. As he made a corner to find the stairs, he saw two people engaging a hushed conversation—an older man and the gorgeous woman he'd run into earlier. Not wanting to interrupt, or be seen, he pulled back behind the wall and observed their noticeably forced discussion. _I really need to learn to stop eavesdropping… Yeah, maybe one day…_

"You haven't talked to Nash yet, have you?" That was the woman—her voice that same soft, yet musical tone she had used with him when they had met earlier. 

"I've been hesitant to bring it up. I don't want it to seem like I was taking advantage of his new office. I'm sure you've already noticed how that pride of his has a tendency to rear up at the most awkward of moments? No, making gold out of lead is child's play compared to getting him to change his mind." 

The woman shook her head, "No, you know he wouldn't think that of you. You've known him longer and better than any of us, and it is your decision. However, if you are having second thoughts, I don't think it will make much difference. As far as I'm concerned, all the old laws and customs have been thrown out." 

"That may be true, my dear, but he'll get more respect and support if it's done according to the Old Code. Althena knows he needs all that he can get! It's not an easy job to start with, and after everything that's happened, it will only be harder." 

The woman looked away from the man, her eyes as distant as her voice. "Gregory, I don't know why you are doing this, but I hope it's not for my sake. I'm sure you're going to be inundated with questions once it's announced. I admit I am already curious, but I will respect Nash's privacy. Others might not be so considerate, and I don't want to put you through that—it wouldn't be fair." 

The man lifted her chin with a tender hand, "I've been asked questions all my life, child. I think I can handle a few busy bodies. To answer your question as to why I'm doing this? Simple. It's something that I should have done years ago, but my own demons kept me from going through with it. This just happens to give me an excuse to slay them once and for all." 

She hugged him, "Thank you, Gregory. I don't mean to rush you, but you'll need to mention it soon. Master Robin started to harass him about it today." 

The man returned her embrace and then stepped back, smiling at her as he held her hands. "That woman would test the patience of a rock, and most likely outlast it. I will speak with Nash…and I will also mention how cruel he has been towards you. There is no reason for him to be so disrespectful." 

"I can fight my own battles, Master Gregory." 

"I know you can. However, some battles do require the Calvary," he said, giving her a respectful bow. "All the same, Majesty, for Vane, I believe I should." 

_Majesty?! This is Mia Ausa? I can't believe I didn't recognize her! What with all the portraits of her with the others…no wonder she looked so familiar. Sabre's right, sometimes I'm a complete idiot…_

"Gregory…" 

The old man held up his hand, his voice soft and filled with humor. "Child, you have people to entertain. Allow me to deal with Nash. After all, now he's really my responsibility—assuming he agrees of course. There's always that little matter of his ego, you know." 

She sighed and her companion responded, "You remind me so much of your grandmother—always wanting to take on the world with little or no help. She always refused to ask for it and was always reluctant to accept it. Yet, she became all the stronger when she realized she needed it. She would have been proud of her granddaughter." 

The mage draped his arm around her, and led her down the hall, their conversation continuing in low tones. _I hope they didn't see or sense me…_

Relieved that he could finally get up the stairs, Brinson made it back to the wing their rooms were on after only taking one wrong turn. He mentally decided to draw himself a map of the labyrinthine Guild the first chance he got. 

Brushing his hair back into place, he gently rapped on the door to the room he guessed Sabre had been assigned. As he had half expected, Darian answered and peered up at him, looking more than a little relieved at his presence. 

"Where's your mother kiddo?" He asked as he picked the boy up and entered the room. 

Darian whispered, "Shh…Mommy's sleeping." 

"Where's Gravitt?" Brinson did his best to keep the suspicion and fear out of his voice, but failed miserably. He made his way into the center of the room, carefully navigating his way in the dim lighting around the cot that had been set up for Darian. 

"I dunno. This is our room. Just me and Mommy." 

"Really?" Brinson looked over to the bed and saw Sabre's small figure occupying the sheets. 

"Yeah. And Mommy says that I can stay with her," the child said, squirming a little. 

_That's unusual…_Brinson forced a smile as he returned the boy to his feet, not wanting to think of the cause behind their master's strange decision. 

"I want you to stay here, too. We could have fun! Mommy could dance and you could sing and tell stories!" 

Brinson gave a look fraught with anguish, but quickly hid it behind his standard shy grin. "How long has Mommy been asleep?" _She seems to be tired a lot more than usual lately…I hope nothing is wrong._

"I dunno. Awhile. I wanna go outside. It looks so pretty." 

"Let me wake Mommy up and we'll go for dinner. Go get your shoes on." 

Darian did as he was told. The Tribal chuckled to himself as he watched the boy locate his shoes, pull them on, and proceed to go about the ordeal of tying them. This was a rather new skill for the child, and he was adamant about doing it himself. Knowing this would take at least another ten minutes; Brinson sat down on the bed next to Sabre's still form and stared at her with a shameless thought of desire. 

A tight sadness began to fill him as he thought of one morning, not too long ago, when he had tried to wake her with a kiss. Oh, it sounded so romantic at that moment—and just one little kiss wouldn't hurt. Besides, she loved him, so how could her Gift harm him? Love was love! She had told him she'd once healed a minor injury for her mother with just pleasant thoughts and feelings. If she could heal like that, then how could she hurt him? Ignoring the many warnings she'd tried to give him, he had leaned over, and had barely touched his lips to hers before shockwaves rushed through his body, his eyes flashing open as he felt his hair stand on end. By the time he had realized that he couldn't move, she had awakened and, in near horror, jerked herself upright to push him away. 

Was it the passion they felt for each other? Was she just incredibly startled? Or was her curse so totally uncontrolled? He didn't know, and from that moment feared he'd never know. She had started to cry, and he had slumped to the floor in exhaustion without even the strength to find words to comfort her. _There must be a way…my love…and maybe we'll find it here._

Everyday, every moment after that, when his eyes were on her he was entranced yet paranoid. But now, now there was finally hope—real hope! He would read every book, talk to every mage, even get an audience the Guildmaster if he had to, but he would find a solution. Then they could be together, for real. Then they could be the family he'd always dreamed of, then…then…. then they'd just have to free themselves from Gravitt…_Oh, it sounds so easy…but I know it's not…_

As if summoned by his thoughts, heavy footsteps clomped towards the room. He was sure it was the man he loathed, and feared beyond all others. No one else, no matter how big or how strong, walked like that. It was a pounding, thudding step—one with years of arrogance and hatred behind it. He looked around for a place to hide, should the man decide to come in. He knew if Gravitt found him here the response would not be pleasant. His eyes darted about the room, under the bed, in the large closet…there were plenty of places… 

They were not needed. The steps walked past the door, and continued down the hall at a brisk pace—Gravitt was on a mission. _Without Marcus and Philip to report my every move, he's been pretty lax this trip…I have a feeling…a bad feeling…this isn't going to be one of our usual maneuvers…_

He touched Sabre's shoulder, brushing some of her bright red hair off it, and shaking her gently. Her eyes fluttered open and, after a moment's confusion, she smiled at him. "Where's Darian?" 

"Tying his shoes," he said, nodding in the direction of the cot by the door. "Are you feeling all right?" 

She nodded as she hauled herself up to a sitting position. "Just a little tired I guess…probably from that trip." 

"It was a long one." _But once you could ride forever, longer than I could in fact…_

She gazed around the large room, stretching in a long yawn. "One thing I have to say for Vane—they have very soft beds. I think I could stay here all day." 

"It's a nice city… as far as cities go, I guess," he said, moving himself closer so they were sitting next to each other on the huge bed. 

She smiled at his motion, and with a shiver, pulled the covers up. He would have liked to think her reaction was because she was cold, but he knew better. The unconscious gesture was just another way reminding him of her deadly Gift. "You've been out then?" 

"Only around the Guild—well, and the stables. I was looking for you. You have to see this place—they certainly spared no expense." 

She leaned her head on his shoulder and looked up at him. "Gravitt doesn't care you're wandering around?" 

"No. He's in scouting mode at the moment, I think. He just told me not to get any ideas and the rest of the usual 'stay close' speech." He put an arm around her shoulders, giving a glance over to the now frustrated, and even more determined Darian at the opposite end of the room. 

Her brow furrowed, "We can't possibly…there are too many people here! Not to mention that these are not simple farmers or townsfolk, these are Mages!" 

He combed a few fingers through her hair—the only real touch he could give her, and even then he had to be careful. "I know. But this time I think he's up to something bigger. But whatever it is, he's being awfully secretive about it and that scares me almost as much as he does." 

She closed her eyes and gingerly placed a hand upon his own, squeezing it slightly for a moment before she spoke, the rough black leather feeling like silk to him. "Yes…and that odd man in the tavern…the one that took Philip and Marcus? Who was he? And how did we get these special rooms anyway? Gravitt's never been to Vane. Not only that, he's trusting us too much. Darian is staying with me, and he said you were going to take us to dinner." 

He did his best not to tense at the not-quite-so-innocent gesture, but couldn't help it. They never really got a chance to sit alone like this—and certainly never in such romantic surroundings. Trying to focus his thoughts, he spoke, his voice coarse as he felt his mouth running dry, "It's strange all right, and I don't like it. I don't know if he's going to try anything stupid, at least I hope he's not—I just found out that all the Heroes are here. In fact, I ran into one earlier." 

Darian leaped on the bed and climbed between them, destroying the small amount of tenderness they were stealing from each other. Nearly shouting, he pointed proudly to his feet. "Look! I did it!" 

"I'm so happy!" She exclaimed as she praised her son, but Brinson detected a bit of disappointment in her voice. 

_Or am I just wishing it were disappointment?_

She turned back to him as she folded her arms around her child, as she asked excitedly, "You met a Hero? Which one?" 

"Nash of Vane," he replied with a proud smile. "I also learned that Matze used to be his horse. Seems that drunken Vanetian was more important than I thought he was." 

"Oh hell, I guess I should return her then." 

"No way! He lost that horse fair and square." 

She piqued an eyebrow at him, "You didn't cheat?" 

Darian, apparently irritated that he was not involved in the conversation, climbed off the bed and went to look out the window again. 

"I didn't have to. Besides, I don't think anyone else will realize it. He didn't recognize me. Hell, he was so drunk that night I'm surprised he could recognize himself. The only reason I met him was because I made a friend. I helped her hang a door. He was more interested in talking to her than he was to me—in fact he hardly even acknowledged my presence. You'll like her, Sabre, she's real down to earth." 

"Her?" She grumbled, and he flinched—he knew that fire temper was about to ignite. 

"The engineer of the Guild. Nice girl. Her name's Artie," he said softly, hoping to quench the embers before they grew into flames. 

"I see," was the flat response. 

"You're not jealous, are you?" 

She kicked the blankets off her and stood up, her voice at least twenty degrees colder than it had been only moments ago. "Nope, not in the slightest." 

"Sabre…" He pleaded, knowing he had touched a nerve, but managed to spare his own hide for the moment. Perhaps it was the physical limitations unfairly forced upon their relationship, or maybe just part of that fire-temper, but her jealousy was enough to drive him insane. Those blue-green eyes would blaze with raw anger, and her calm would soon break. He believed the cause to be more to be the former than the latter, for her envy was always in regards to him and other females._ I wish you would just accept my feelings for you and realize there will never be another…no matter what…_

"Let's go find something to eat," she said, changing the subject but her tone still holding the sharp edge of fury. 

Deciding that food was more important than what ever was going on outside, Darian jumped up from his spot and ran between them, laughing and giggling, "Dinner! What we gonna eat? Something special?" 

Sabre scooped him up into her arms and touched a gloved finger to his nose, her voice becoming gentle again. "Are you a hungry little monster?" 

Darian nodded a vigorous 'yes' and asked to be put down. His mother smiled and let him go, and with a grin, he reached up and grabbed a hand from each of them, swinging himself between them as they left the room. 

_Someday, we'll all be happy…and free of Gravitt…and then, we'll be a family, my love…someday…it's a big promise, but it will happen…I swear…_

_******_

Dinner was uneventful, but Brinson did notice that the number of people both within and camped outside the city gates had nearly doubled in the few hours since he'd arrived. The Mage's Staff was rather busy, trying to keep all of their patrons happy as well as turn the tables over for a higher profit. The tavern was probably the cleanest establishment of its kind that Brinson had ever been in, and to his pleasant surprise, the clientele were civilized for a change. _I usually hate taking Darian into some of these holes, but this one is different, like this whole place is different…_ The food was remarkably good, but Sabre seemed too preoccupied to eat—she spent more time pushing food around her plate than she did putting it in her mouth. _I know you're worried…I am too…but you can't starve yourself…_

When they had finished dinner, she had wanted to hear him sing, and to dance to his songs, but Brinson told her (quietly, so that Darian couldn't overhear) of Gravitt's more than direct order not to be entertainers on this trip. She nodded to him in complete understanding, but he could see the disillusion in her eyes, and reached for her hand._ I know we could have used the money…I'll make it up to you…_

They spent a few hours there; enjoying the tethered freedom Gravitt had granted them. Shortly after nine o'clock, the apparent local regulars began arriving and giving disdainful looks to those who were in town for the celebration. Just time for the crowd to turn a bit rowdy, the three of them started the short walk back to the Vane, their shadows cast in full by the Blue Star. Darian ran ahead towards the city gates, and stared, transfixed from his position on the ground at two workers who were being levitated by two mages, as they tried to hang a banner from the large arch. Sabre called to him, but Brinson pulled her into his embrace and whispered, "Don't worry. I'm sure he's fine. Just give me a moment?" 

She smiled and let him hold her for a few minutes, his hands rubbing her back in smooth, soothing motions, and his thoughts wandering. She smiled up at him, and then rested her head on his chest. Brinson gave an audible sigh at her action; it was just what he wanted, no, needed right then. Normally, she would be nervous at such a bold move. He wasn't ever really sure if her hesitation to touch him stemmed out fear of Gravitt, her deadly Gift, or merely afraid of being able to find the will power to just keep it to just a simple hug. _He's done some horrible things to her...I don't fault her for being afraid of people...but of me? I wish she would just trust me...or herself for that matter..._

They stood in the shadow of the wall of the city; as if it's pristine presence could protect them from all the evils they had faced and those that lay in wait._ I love you, Sabre…but you know that…_Finally, she pulled back and took his hand, leading him back into Vane in silence. 

As they crossed the threshold into the city, Darian scampered up to them. The child was completely covered in mud and soaking wet. "I found some puddles!" 

Sabre rolled her eyes, their brilliant color and spirit brought out by the many lanterns and glow globes that had been brought out for the Festival. "Then it's bath time for you, silly boy!" 

"No! Mommy! No!" He giggled as he tried to run away from them again. She chased him down the main street, Brinson following, and trying to dodge the many people still working on the decorations. 

Darian was laughing so hard that he ran right smack into the legs of a man, startling him. Sabre caught up with the boy and scooped him into her arms, profusely apologizing to the still shocked victim. The mage nodded to her and then turned back to a rather intense conversation he was having two other (but certainly not local) men. 

Brinson (who was never much of a runner) followed the two at a slow jog, and made it just in time to see whom it was that Darian had assaulted. It was Nash; there was certainly no mistaking the short mage he had met earlier in the Guild and in Nerak. The Tribal narrowed his eyes as he saw him stare at Sabre as she carried her son away. His skin prickled with envy as the Hero kept his eyes on her, his companions teasing him for his sudden fascination in the redhead. _You could have any woman you want…stay away from mine…_

"Darian…" Sabre scolded, the tone of her voice saying more than the simple word could possibly convey. They walked up to the Guild Manor with the boy's eyes begging Brinson for some degree of salvation, which did not come. 

"Brinson?" Sabre asked, her eyes full of concern as they stood in front of the main entrance to the building that was lit up as if it were day. 

"Hmm?" 

"Aren't you going to bed?" 

He shook his head, "No…I'll check on the horses, and be up soon enough." 

She smiled at him and touched his cheek with her rough gloves, as he held the door for her, "I'll see you in the morning then." 

He gave a shy grin and a nod as she vanished into the massive structure. 

_There has to be a way… and if it exists anywhere it exists here…If I can find it…_

_******_

Sleep was obviously out of the question. Brinson visited the stable as he said he would, but even after the walk there and back he wasn't in the mood to go to bed. He returned to the Guild, giving a quick wave to Artie who was repelling off the balcony above the entrance. He was a bit amused that she was cursing rather loudly at the man supporting her as she tried to straighten a banner flaunting the symbol of the House of Ausa—something he had gotten used to seeing everywhere in Vane. _She is something else…_

Once back in the Guild, he decided to try and find that answer. After their embrace, he wanted; no it was what he needed, now more than ever. Those precious few moments just left him aching for more. The mere sensation of her against him left him aroused and his body begging for her as his brain called for every iota of will power to not try anything that could harm them. _There must be a way…someone must know…the Library…I'll start in the Library…_

Getting directions to the fabled Library of Vane was easy, and following them simpler still--second floor, west wing, you can't miss it. It took only a matter of minutes to reach the described entrance, and after pushing the door open Brinson stared in awe of the elaborate room. Room, however was an understatement. The blond Tribal was dead mute as he began to wander up and down the long aisles, his eyes drifting over the scores of hand-bound books and leather folios. The racks seemed to run out into the distance as far as the eye could see, though he knew that couldn't be true. The Guild was only so large; he'd seen it from outside, yet somehow this room seemed bigger than it could possibly be. It was as though the Library curved back onto itself without a corner or bend to be found._ The man at the Mage's Staff said it burned down…they did a wonderful job of restoring it…although some shelves are still bare…_

Somehow, he wound up in the center of the room, standing next to a small ornate pedestal covered in a red and gold cloth. Curiosity overtook him and he lifted it to see a glass case, which contained a list of sorts. From the last two words on it, he guessed it to be the names of all the Ausas who had ever ruled Vane. _Interesting, but not what I came here for…_

As he replaced the drape, he forced himself to concentrate on the matter he needed information on. _Sabre's Gift…empath? Was that the word? Yes…empath…_ A moment later, he walked as if drawn to a certain area of the room and found himself standing in front of a bookcase. _It's as though the room knew what I was looking for.. or wanted. I wonder…_Ignoring the possible connotations of his question, he stared in wonder at an oddly colored series of books. _ Studies of Wild Magic on the Prairies of the Stadius Zone?_ It couldn't be this easy, could it? The title made him even more suspicious about the Library and any strange powers it might have had, yet excited at the same time. Brinson reached out to the shelf and picked up the first volume, his fingers flipping the pages erratically as he scanned it in disbelief. 

Then, with a sinking feeling of impending disaster, he again heard that only too familiar voice from nearby. A melodramatic bass with malicious undertones—it could only be Gravitt. Brinson could not mistake that intonation--not in a million years. Placing the book back onto the shelf, he eased around and glimpsed two dim shapes standing in a nearby alcove. _They weren't there when I came in…were they?_

Though isolated somewhat from the rest of the room, their voices were obviously better overheard than they had intended. Gravitt and his companion (who was dressed in a hooded cloak) stood with their backs to Brinson and the rest of the Library. Even as close as he was, he couldn't even tell if the other person was male or female for they had been careful to conceal their voice behind a rasp. 

"I left your associates with our friend. He will need them to get us the rest of the beauties." 

"The two you have with you—can they be trusted?" 

Gravitt snorted, "Trusted? No. Used, yes. Especially the whore. I have special plans for her." 

The other seemed to dismiss his statement with irritation. "Whatever, Did you bring the sample?" 

"Yes, but you'll have to help me in triggering them. I have enough for a demonstration on something like a tree or a rock, though I admit I've no idea how they're supposed to work. I assume even your levitation spells can't raise those things." 

"Things as small as that, of course I can—just about anyone on my level could. But none of us have the power to do the job we want—even combined. Your little.... presents, on the other hand can. I should be able to help with the activation--assuming you play your part, no one should be watching me. You will be guaranteed to impress the proletariat." 

"The what?" 

The tone that responded expressed without measure the disgust Gravitt's companion felt towards his lack of vocabulary, "The yokels." 

"Ah. And you're the best?" 

"Of course I am. Never doubt that for an instant. I killed the last man who did." 

"Impressive. What about the Guildmaster?" 

"She's got a lot of natural talent, so does her idiot Premier for that matter, but neither of them should be a match for me—and certainly not for you. They've been so preoccupied with this sophomoric festival and their lack of a relationship I'm surprised the place hasn't fallen down in the past few months. They are so innocent of reality that it's almost a pity to take advantage of them. Almost." 

"I have an idea how to deal with him. I'd venture to say without him around, she'd be easier to convince, or at least manipulate." 

The hooded person snickered, "She'd probably be the last to admit it, but everyone here knows it's true. So yes, you venture correctly, although I don't think you should kill him just yet. It would raise too much suspicion." 

"Kill him? No, not at all. I have a plan—one that might drive her to kill him—or better yet severely discredit him." 

"Are you going to share it?" 

"No, I'm going to let you be as surprised as the Guildmaster. It will certainly drive them further apart, I'll say that much. I heard they were lovers at one point. Is that correct?" 

"Yes." 

"How long ago?" 

"Now you've got me really interested. I'd say…for three years or so, up until last December. It could have been longer—I don't know if anything happened between them while they were off playing Heroes." 

"Perfect. Perfect timing. You'll be amazed at my handy work, I assure you, my friend." 

"I hope so. We can't afford to mess this up. We don't have enough time for mistakes. Just remember no harm can come to her." 

"No harm better come to her—I'll kill the man that touches her! You promised me she would be my prize for my role in this." 

"Some prize. Regardless, we need her alive--otherwise we'll never be able to entire the Spire. She's the blasted key to that place, without her no one gains entry." 

"Entry? To what?" 

"To the Silver Spire, you simpleton. It's the heart of Vane's power. I've spent a lifetime studying it, and once inside I can…we can… control it. If we have the Guildmaster in our power… " 

Although he couldn't see Gravitt's face, Brinson knew his master had made the connection to the conversation with Artie earlier—he could tell just by the way his words became acidic. "Ah..Right. On a side note, I understand the Heroes are in town." 

"Yes, they are. We will have to wait until they leave before we make our final move. Mages and Wizards we can handle, but an ex-Dragonmaster and his barbarian friends could be another story." 

"I could have one of mine take care of them." 

"Don't be an fool, again, too much suspicion. We'll have to wait them out." 

"If you insist, but if they get in the way… I'll find something to…. happen to them…" 

The cloaked person hissed, "Don't make a move without my order. I'll contact you when we are to meet next." 

Gravitt turned and walked away, and by his pace Brinson knew he was angry. The other person stood there for another moment in dead silence, and once the huge man was gone, followed suit. 

__Oh Althena…here we go again…   


**Author's note…man, these chapters just keep getting bigger and bigger! Anyway, I know I promised Jessica for this one, but well, I decided CH9 would be better suited to her…until then…be good! --K'Arthur 

PS: Some artwork for this story is available at: http://www.karthurville.com/equation 


	10. Chapter Nine

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_****_If Love Were Only Part of the Equation__****__

Chapter Nine

_"The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can ever end."—__Benjamin Disraeli_

Jessica was on a mission. Her jaw was fixed and her gaze never left the trail straight ahead of her. Her gait didn't yield or slow no matter how congested the path became as she strode through the hallways of the Magic Guild. From moment to moment she would glance back and smile pensively to the blue-haired woman accompanying her, as if in encouragement to keep up with her long stride. People in the corridors greeted them with cheerful hellos, and some even bowed, a gesture she was still getting used to here in Vane.(They didn't bother with such foolish formalities at home.)Still, they meant well, so she forced herself to give at least a quick nod of her head in acknowledgement as she pressed on, expecting Luna to do the same. 

She had wanted to embark on this quest last night, while her annoyance and anger were fresh in her mind, right after it all hit the ceiling at that dinner party.But, in a rare moment of contemplation, she realized that it would be best to wait and let the dust settle. So, this morning, armed with a night's careful planning, her ire up, and Luna to keep the peace, she went to hunt down one of the biggest players in the disaster from the previous evening—Mia._Oh yes… someone has a LOT of explaining to do. _

Oh, it had been a dream at first—just sitting and joking with her friends again. It was like old times, or how she had wanted to remember them. Even Alex's little dragon, Nall, had taken up a spot on Mia's shoulder, nuzzling her on the cheek and laughing with the rest of them. Kalyn had found happiness in her father's lap and seemed caught between an endless curiosity of everything that that was being said around her and the fact that it was well past her bedtime. No one, not even her energetic daughter, could keep going all day, and sleepiness had finally started to set in. 

All about her the rest of them smiled and told stories as they waited for Nash to arrive for dinner. He was surprisingly late, and Mia had seemed to grow more irritated by the second, casting glances at the still doors that began as worried and quickly grew to annoyed.Finally, after twenty minutes had passed, in through the doors had blown the storm himself, reluctant to meet any of their eyes and taking a quick and decisive seat with a hurried apology for his tardiness.

She should have seen it as an omen.A dark cloud seemed to have followed Nash into the room, and although the gathering had started out pleasant, it quickly began to change tone.Every time Nash addressed Mia, he did so with a formal'Yes, Majesty. Of course, Majesty.' The cold and stiffness in his voice quickly chilled everyone at the table and brought the cheerfulness that had once filled the room to an abrupt end.Sitting only a few feet from him, Jessica wanted to slap him, and by some miracle was able to resist the temptation. 

Conversations, no matter who started them, or what they were about, didn't last long enough to even be called that, and the tension between the two mages quickly drained any and all joy and life from the room.Luna and Alex seemed to feel it first, setting their glasses down and making regretful, if obviously fabricated, excuses as they stood and exited the room, dragging Nall behind them.Finally, Jessica herself couldn't take it any more and, with as stern look between Nash and Mia, pardoned herself to put Kalyn to bed, her eyes telling Kyle to follow.

Jessica frowned as the memories of the night before filled her, urging her to a faster pace as Luna rushed to catch her.Today, one way or another, she would find out what was going on. Silently she prayed it was just stress from this Festival and everything else that was going on, but instincts told her it ran deeper—much deeper.

They came to the door to Mia's private wing and stopped. Decorated in lush gold leaf with her family crest, the entrance to the Guildmaster's suite spoke well of the luxury that lay within and showed an astonishing touch of extravagance. Jessica tried to walk past, but the two guards stepped in front of her. The younger of the two spoke, "I don't believe Majesty Mia was expecting you.My… lady, and no one enters without her permission."

Jessica glared at him, and spat, "She doesn't need to expect me, you twit!" 

"Jessica," Luna said sternly.

She paused, taking a breath and then continuing in a much more pleasant, yet still direct tone. "Tell her it's Jessica and that I'm coming in whether she's awake or not.This is important."

The older man slipped into the room on the other side, his response to the women nothing more than a nervous nod. A moment later he returned and held one of the double doors to the suite open. "My deepest apologies, Mistress Jessica. Please understand we have tightened security for the Festival. Majesty Mia will receive you in her bedroom. Please take the first door on the left."

With only a curt nod to the two sentries, Jessica stepped into the parlor of the suite. She noticed that the younger man kept his eye on them as they passed by, and was glad to be rid of him when she heard the door close._Kids these days, give them a uniform and they think they're important or something. _

The parlor was plush; just like everything else in the newly reconstructed city. Jessica really didn't have time to admire the décor, but one thing caught her eye. Hanging over the fireplace was a framed portrait of a very young Lemia dressed in her formal robes, and smiling at some distant admirer. 

Luna also stopped and stared at the artwork for a moment before giving a saddened bow of her head and moving on. The blue haired woman knocked on the door they had been directed to, and yet another guard—this one female, opened it. 

With less than a glance to her, the two stepped into the bedroom, both taken aback by the grandeur of the space. The room itself was at least twice the size of the faculty dorms they had been assigned, and far more luxurious. At the far end was a large bed with its purple velvet curtains pulled back, as if proclaiming the ornate gold headboard, decorated with the Ausa family crest. Strangely, sitting on the bed was a stuffed toy in the shape of some kind of monster. Jessica shook her head remembering her friend's bizarre fondness for the creature called a Gorgon. _I wonder where the hell she got that hideous thing? Well, I guess it's cute…in a crazy way…__ like if you don't have any taste… _

Other furniture in the room was typical of the faculty quarters. The dressers, desk and tables were all made of fine wood, with polished marble tops. A dressing screen was in the far corner, and two large doors opened out onto a private balcony, letting in some fresh air. The only oddity was a hole in the ceiling, square in shape, and patched with rough pieces of lumber as well as a tarp. Effective for keeping out the elements, but certainly out of place with the fulsomeness of the rest of the place. _What? Did they miss a spot?_

In the center of the room, stood the Guildmaster, balanced atop a small stool and dressed in an elegant red and gold gown while an older woman bustled around her.The seamstress was constantly adjusting this fold and that seam, and pinning this to that as her hands danced around the soft fabric.All the while the old woman was muttering under her breath, her words mostly obscured by the pins and needles she held in her mouth. Another female guard stood a few feet away, watching them closely. _Is she afraid of getting attacked by the dressmaker?_

On hearing her friends' entry Mia gathered the wide skirt about her and, with her happy laugh pealing through the room, jumped from her perch, and ran toward them, the train of her dress pulling the stool over behind her."Jess, Luna!Good Morning! I hope you slept well?"

The old woman spat out the pins and threw the pincushion he'd been holding to the floor, watching as it rolled a short distance from her. She gave a disgusted look to the young woman as she righted the footstool."If you want me to have that dress finished by the time you inaugurate that new Premier of yours, you will get right back over here, Miss Ausa! You are more difficult than your mother and grandmother combined!"

The guard moved with Mia, hovering around the three women, but not quite positioning herself between them. 

Mia glared at her shadow. "Do you have to take Master Alastair's orders so literally? I can fend for myself—especially in my own bedroom and with my best friends!"

The guard's ears turned a pale pink as she backed away a few feet.An order may be an order, her steady gaze seemed to speak, but her hand stayed near the hilt of her sword, and her eyes never left Jessica or Luna.

Mia laughed as she hugged her friends, blushing a bit from embarrassment."I'm sorry, but Alastair is getting downright paranoid with all the visitors coming in these days, and even Magda is a bit testy at the moment—come to think of it, everyone is on edge lately.But she's right; I really do need to let her finish working on this dress.Please, stay with me while she does.Being a human clothes hanger is awfully boring."

With that Mia grasped her friend's hands and pulled them back with her, as the seamstress angrily saved the train from being destroyed a second time. The Guildmaster didn't release her friends until she stepped back up onto the stool.She teetered for a moment, almost losing her balance as her friends steadied her."Is this okay, Magda?"

The old woman mutely nodded and again began trying to reset the creases and seams that Mia's movements had pulled loose, marking where the garment would have to be altered from its last resizing. 

Jessica grinned at her petite friend and the fantastic gown.The bodice fit tight, pushing up in all the right places without compromising Mia's tiny frame. The short, decorative sleeves fell off her shoulders, letting her black curls brush the golden fabric and her alabaster skin. Red beads trailed across her chest in a flame pattern, the crest of her house in the center. Within the folds of the skirt more red showed, seeming to shimmer as the eye tried to catch their detail, and giving the illusion that the woman wearing the gown was aflame. "Wow, Mia.That's some dress.Something special I take it?"

"It looks stunning on you, as though you were designed for it, or it for you," Luna added.

"It's a family heirloom.It's ancient, as old as Vane I think.No one really knows what the cloth is.It never seems to tear or show wear, even after all these years it looks brand new.It only comes out when we instate a new Premier."

The old woman's voice came out in a soft mutter as she tugged at a stubborn hem."And it's about the closest thing to a wedding gown you'll ever see an Ausa in."

There was a stunned silence as Mia turned and glared at the seamstress.A look of horror crossed her wrinkled face as she realized that she'd said the words out loud."I…I…" Then she fell silent, looking down to the floor to hide her embarrassment and frown.

Mia's voice was casual as she gave her reprimand. "Magda sometimes forgets herself, and she's always been something of a gossip, haven't you my dear?" 

The old woman only nodded in silence as she reached out again to resume her needlework.

Jessica gave her friends a wink as she broke the uncomfortable silence, "I don't know how much swearing in Nash is going to be doing with you standing near him in that!I'll be surprised if he'll be able to chain two words together without stammering."

Luna chuckled, "She does have a point. Maybe you should wear a burlap sack?"

Mia seemed a bit sad as she said quietly, "You're too kind. I'm an ugly duckling in comparison to my mother. And, to be honest, I'm not sure he'll even notice it, or me."

Jessica gave the Guildmaster a sympathetic look, and was about to speak when the seamstress muttered again, "I just hope this one performs his duties quietly and leaves the rest of us well enough alone."

Mia forced a smile, desperately trying to change the subject. "Where's Kalyn? I adore your daughter, Jess. She looks more like you every time I see her."

Jessica smirked, "Off being Daddy's Little Girl. Kyle said he'd take her down to some of the Festival this morning.I never have to worry about him getting into trouble with Kalyn around, she runs him so ragged he's too exhausted to even look for it."

Luna smiled, as she winked at Jessica. "I sent Alex with them. He needs some practice."

"Practice?" Mia looked between the two of them, her expression saying she knew they were hiding something.

"Practice." Luna repeated with a warm smile.

"Oh!" Mia exclaimed, suddenly understanding. She jumped off the stool again and threw her arms around Luna. "Oh my goodness! That's wonderful! How many months now?"

"Two," Luna replied as she hugged her friend again. "Although I admit getting sick every morning isn't all that wonderful."

"That should end shortly," Jessica said with a bit of authority.

Jessica gave a soft cough, trying to cover her forwardness. "You know, come to think of it.You do seem to be falling behind the rest of us here."

Mia turned to her."Behind?I don't understand, Jess."

Jessica's next thought was interrupted by the noise made by the seamstress as she picked up her things and left in a huff. "I'll come back when you're not quite so…distracted, Majesty."

Mia didn't even give a reply; it was clear that at that moment all she could feel was joy at hearing such wonderful news from her friends. "Why didn't you tell me last night? I mean, why wait? This is such happy news!"

"I wanted to—at dinner—but things seemed a little too… tense."

Mia frowned, "Yes…my apologies on that. Nash has a way of aggravating me easily these days."

Jessica looked to Luna, concerned. "Well he was always good at that; probably just a lot of stress from this Festival and the Guild and all. Although I did want to smack him when he called you 'Majesty.'Goddess, Mia, it was as though you'd hit him with a freeze spell or something."

Mia sighed, "No it goes beyond that. But let's not get into it. There are too many things to be happy about. A week of parties, a few weeks with my best friends, Luna's pregnant…"

Footsteps came from behind them. Standing there was a dark haired boy in his early teens, dressed in a tunic. "Pardon me, Majesty, but your appointment--?"

"Oh!" Mia cried as she ran behind a dressing screen, the train of her dress dragging across the floor. "I completely forgot about that, thank you.Tell him I'll be right there, Kant."

The boy bowed in the direction of the screen and left. 

Jessica called out to her through the screen, more than a touch annoyed at being interrupted before she could ask Mia about Nash's act the night before; "You have a meeting? When will you be free again?"

"It's not a meeting—it's more of just a welcoming of a special guest—a very special guest. Come with me. This is someone I want you to meet."

"All right," Jessica replied, as Luna nodded to her.

Mia was wearing in a much more simple dress as she came around the front of the screen and handed the gown to the guard in the room. "Please take this to Magda, and be careful with it.She would have both our skins if it got dirty or torn."

******* 

The walk to Mia's office wasn't all that long or tedious, and Jessica was pleased that the Guildmaster shrugged off all interruptions for the moment. The blonde woman smiled to herself as she took in all of the improvements made within the building. Sadly, the last time she had been to Vane was the past August, for Lemia's funeral. 

Back then, the buildings were still in disarray, and she secretly wondered if it would all ever come back together. Her doubts increased when she had seen her dear friend and how she was taking the inevitable. Everyone had known Lemia was dying; everyone but Mia it seemed. Perhaps the poor girl had been deluding herself for so long that a false hope had sprouted. The strong and quietly confident Guildmaster did little the week of the burial other than cling to Nash, like a child afraid of her own shadow hiding behind her trusty and protective teddy bear. Jessica shook away the dark memory, _No point in bringing up bad things of the past, they only cloud the view of the present._

Down some stairs and around a corner they turned, only to be greeted by yet more of Mia's elite guards, both of them bowing to the women. "Your guest said he'd return shortly, Majesty. He said he'd forgotten something."

"Show him in when he arrives," Mia said, giving a perplexed look as one of the men opened the door for her, and she led Jessica and Luna into the office.

Although it wasn't quite as large as her bedroom, the office was elegant nonetheless. Jessica stared in awe at the tapestries and exquisite furniture, but what intrigued her the most were the six statues arranged on columns near the window. She moved closer to examine them further, taking careful note of the placement of each in relation to the others around it. _Hmm…interesting she's put herself as far from him as possible…_** **

"My mother gave those to me. She said I should always remember my friends. Aren't they fantastic?"

"They are beautiful, and you even have Nall in there."

"I couldn't forget him."

_Of course not, but I still say that he likes you a little too much…_

"Who is this person we are meeting?" Luna asked as she looked at the tapestries, all of them depicting what appeared to be different scenes from Vane's history.

As Mia started to answer, a loud knock echoed through the door and it swung smoothly open.Before it had ended its movement, guard entered, came to attention and bowed. "Gravitt of Briggatt is here to see you, per your request, Majesty."

Mia smiled to the guard."Please show him in, Sebastian."

The sentry turned and nodded to the shadowed figure that had stepped into the entrance.Without a sound, an enormous man walked forward. His pace was more measured than any guard Jessica had ever known, but unexpectedly casual.Her head jerked in response to the appearance of the man and stared at him critically.He was large, bigger than Kyle, or at least close to it.His massive frame spoke of his strength and the grace with which he balanced on his feet screamed of his unmatched skill in combat.His tunic and cloak were of excellent quality, yet seemed somewhat out of place on him as though tailored for someone else of near, but not identical, size and build.He wasn't bad looking, in a rough-hewn sort of way, again reminding her of her husband.But then her gaze fell on his bright silver eyes… and a frightening chill ran down her spine._He has the eyes of a reptile…She instinctively recoiled, but still watched intently as the man ducked to enter the room, and then gave a deep bow to Mia as he stepped forward._

The stranger's voice was deep, smooth, and strangely convincing."I received your message, Majesty, and came as quickly as I could. I trust I've not interrupted anything?" He asked, turning to the other two women, though his smile seemed to grow thinner as he looked at Jessica, perhaps enjoying her repulsion of him.

"No, not at all. These are my closest friends. May I present Luna of Burg and Jessica de Alkirk?"

Jessica forced a smile at the man, and noticed Luna did the same. "A pleasure to meet you ladies. I thank you, especially, Miss Jessica for your efforts in the years past."The smile that accompanied these words failed to touch his eyes as he gave the two others a quick, appraising glance. 

"You're… most welcome," she responded, not even sure where her voice came from, because she couldn't stop staring at his eyes.

"Please have a seat. I'm sorry, I don't know your title or proper name," Mia said with a smile as she gestured to the large sofa in the office, motioning for her two friends to follow and sit in the chairs next to it. "I'm afraid the letters you included with your generous donations didn't really mention that." 

"Ah, it's just Gravitt, Majesty. In Briggatt we really don't have time for titles or namesakes.We see ourselves more as a community of equals. I merely have the honor of…speaking for them, you might say."His words sounded like oil rubbed over the cold edge of a sharp sword to Jessica.

Mia gracefully lowered herself next to him on the sofa. "Very well, Gravitt. Let's set aside the formality and, as you do in your homeland, speak as equals. I asked you here to thank you personally for all you have done for us. You were by far one of our most generous benefactors, and yet I feel as though I know nothing about you."

"Ah, you're most welcome, Majesty. It does sadden me that you don't remember me, but then I shouldn't have expected you too."

Mia looked at the man quizzically, tilting her head and letting some of her locks fall to the side of her face, framing it perfectly.

"Many years ago, when my father, Ziggratt, was still alive, we traveled to Vane. It was still flying then, and I was little more than a child. He came to bring some of the jewels from Briggatt here to trade.They have been our life's blood for longer than we have records.Anyway, I remember wandering the halls of the Guild enamored with the magic, the school, and the society in general. My appearance must have come as a shock to many of the finer students, for we hadn't changed from our riding clothing and must have looked rather out of place to them. I wandered away from my father and some how found myself in the vast Library that used to be outside the Guild proper.I understand you've moved it inside the academy now. Anyway, I was very frightened and lost. I asked several people for directions but no one would talk to me—no one except a pretty little black haired girl who seemed to be hiding behind the pages of her book."

Jessica saw her friend's face flush.

"Yes, Majesty, it was you. You must have only been seven or eight years old at the time, but you put your book down and with a smile agreed to help me find my father."

A look of surprise manifested on the Guildmaster's face as the memory of that event returned to her. "I remember that. We found him equally as lost—down near the gardens, I believe."

The man's eyes warmed, or seemed to. "Yes. Well, I never forgot that small act of kindness."

"All of this…just for that?"

The snake reached for Mia's hand, and to Jessica's surprise, she didn't resist. "That, and because I've always longed to be a part of Vane. Ever since entering that Library and feeling the knowledge pulsing from within its very walls, I have wanted to study here, and to be part of this wonderful world. I wanted to learn about magic, even if I'm not really Gifted. Then, after the tragedy of the Fall, I heard you were going to open this magnificent place to anyone who wished to study both magic and other subjects. I greatly admire that."

"Gravitt, I don't know what to say…Of course you are welcome here now. I apologize for the traditions of Vane past. I wish I could have changed them earlier." She paused, and placed her other hand on his massive one, "What do you mean, 'not really Gifted?'

The benefactor gave a heavy sigh, "I have magic, of a sort, but it is not like yours. I have anti-magic, if you will. I guess you could say I've been cursed with immunity to magic.It's as though it ceases to exist when it comes near me in any form. My father had the same Gift, but I see it as more of a curse."

_I think you are a curse._

"How fascinating—I've never heard of anything like that, but how sad for you." Mia said, her voice soft with sympathy at the man's story.

Gravitt smiled at her again, and then stood up."Well, even without magic I've managed to do rather well.I don't want to take any more of your time, Majesty. I know you don't get to see your friends very often, you deserve to enjoy their company."

Mia rose to her feet, still clearly drawn by this man or his revelations. "Gravitt, I don't know how to thank you. The least I can do is ask that you honor me by sitting at my table during the receptions this week."

Gravitt bowed, "Ah, no, I would be honored with that offer, Majesty."

Mia smiled as he righted himself and Jessica's eyes narrowed with a bit of suspicion as he fished in his pocket for something. He produced a small box and placed it in Mia's hands. "For you, Majesty."

Jessica moved closer, though still keeping a strategic distance between her and the two-legged serpent.She was, despite herself, intrigued by the package and watched as her friend lifted the lid. Inside was a magnificent necklace of alternating diamonds and sapphires, set into to a silvered chain that seemed to glow from the reflection of the stones themselves.It wasn't silver; its color was softer than that, yet it wasn't pewter either, for it had a luster like none she'd ever seen before.Then she gasped, as Mia lifted the glowing chain from its box and the pendant, the crowing glory of the necklace, came into her view.The large, deep blue stone was almost the size of a robin's egg, and seemed to glow softly in the room's light. As Mia turned it, she saw that deep within the stone was a four pointed star, it's sharp tips standing at ninety-degree angles as though carved from within in a silvered light.With every move the image of the star seemed to shift, growing brighter or dimmer, larger or smaller as the Guildmaster studied it with fascination.

Mia gasped, "It's…beautiful. Gravitt, again…I don't even know how to thank you.I've never seen such a stone.It's amazing, and the color of the Blue Star.Look! Luna, Jessica, it even has a small star within it, it follows you as you turn it."

_It seems to glow as it if were alive…_

The man bowed again, as Mia put the necklace on with some assistance from Luna. "It's nothing, Majesty--just a small token of respect from the citizens of Briggatt.The setting is a rare metal found only in our city, or it was.The one vein of it was exhausted years ago, and the magic it took to refine it has also been lost.This is the most extraordinary of precious metals, and the rarest of gems.But it is nothing, your real gift, your gift from me, will be delivered later on this week."

Mia touched the jewelry with a sense of incredible gratitude. "Still this is more than magnificent. It seems your generosity is without end."

"I'll leave you with this—consider it a preview of the things to come." He said as he placed a single green stone in her palm.

Mia stared at the gem; it was crudely cut, but her eyes telling that she had never seen anything like it before, yet it still captivated her. "There is strong magic here, but a kind I'm not familiar with. What is it?"

"Ah, that would spoil the surprise of your gift. Just accept that for right now. I shall deliver the rest with an explanation in a few days. Let me just say that I have heard of your dream, and this is a part of making it come true."

"You don't need to—"

Gravitt smiled at Mia and touched a gentle hand to her cheek, "Oh, but I do. Someone as exquisite as you should not just be revered, but worshiped."

Mia's face burned as the man backed out of the doors, closing them, as his eyes never left her; Jessica felt like she was going to vomit.

"Well…sounds like you made a friend," she said wryly.

"I…guess I did."

"He seems very nice," said Luna.

Jessica snorted, "Yes, as pretty as nightshade, and every bit as deadly. I'm surprised he didn't leave a slime trail behind him."

Mia looked away, seeming to concentrate on the statues at the far end of the office, but then returned the conversation. "He's one of the reasons Vane is what it is today, Jessica. I think you are over-reacting."

"Perhaps, but just…be careful. At least get those annoyances of guards to do their job when he's around you."

Luna walked up to the window and stared out, trying to ignore Mia's rejection of Jessica's warning. She sighed, "It's just so beautiful, Mia. I remember the first time Alex and I saw Vane. I'll never forget it. I've still never seen a place so magnificent."

"Thank you. I just hope we regain our place as the seat of knowledge in the world. My mother valued that above all of the magic."

"I think you're already there, Mia."

Another knock came on the door, this one more pounding than the guard from before, and Jessica heard a voice she knew too well arguing with the guards.

Mia quickly stepped to the door and opened it, beaming at the people there. "Oh come in! All of you!"She said as she waved the group in, not even bothering to talk to the guard who seemed, this time at least, to recognize defeat as she gestured to him to close the door behind them. Kalyn ran straight for her mother, her blonde hair waving behind her as her small beast ears twitched with excitement. As she gave Jessica a quick hug she cried out in a happy voice; "Mommy! We saw fire! We saw lots and lots of fire! We saw a man eating fire! Like a dragon!"

"We don't eat fire!" Nall retorted as he resumed his perch on Alex's shoulder, but a careful glance from Luna silenced him.

"Really?" She gave a dubious look to Kyle who just shrugged.

Mia giggled, giving a soft smile at the girl and her parents. She turned to Alex, and gave him a hug. "I heard the good news. Congratulations!"

The quiet man's cheeks turned a little pink as he returned the embrace with a glance to his wife. "Thanks."

A swift yet friendly silence filled the room, until Kalyn shouted again, "I wanna go back! I wanna go play the games and watch the magic!"

"She's addicted to that carnival," Kyle said to Jessica. "I need a break, but I'll take her back after lunch. Besides, I think Alex was having fun playing chase the three year old."

"Could be worse, I guess." She replied playfully.

Alex smiled at them all, not saying a word.

"My wings are tired after following Kalyn. Your kid better not be as energetic!" Nall said, glaring at Alex.

Jessica frowned at her husband, sensing that he had failed in _his _mission. "Where's Nash?"

"I don't know. He all but disappeared. We tried his room, his office, and even the Library. Someone said he was out by the stables, but by the time we got there, he was gone."

"He does that," Mia said quietly. "He'll turn up soon enough."

Jessica noted Mia's tone was enough to halt the entire conversation, and she gave Kyle a look that suggested he follow her request. "Why don't you take Kalyn to lunch at the Festival?"

"Yeah! Lunch! Outside! With the fire people!"

Kyle scooped her up and looked to Alex, "You ready for another round, Daddy?"

"Actually, I'd like to borrow him for awhile," Luna said, tugging on her husband's sleeve. "Come on, Alex."

Alex was smarter than to put up a fight, and followed her as Jessica glared at the pair. _Don't you leave me to handle this!The grin on Luna's face told her that she knew she'd just ducked having to sit in on her little talk with Mia.___

Jessica watched as the pair left, a smile breaking across her face, the annoyance fading quickly. _They are such a perfect couple… She turned to Kyle, and nodded, letting him know it time for him to go. She still had matters to attend to, and they did not involve him. She hoped he would take care of what he promised to, but realized with Kalyn so wound up, it probably wouldn't happen. The little girl gave an excited wave to her mother and Mia, and then she and her father left, the door closing behind them._

Mia opened the huge double door next to the window the statues sat in front of and stepped out onto the balcony. _Well, at least I have you alone now. Enough of this beating around the bush…___

The two of them stood for a moment, looking out over the city. Jessica found some words, not as direct as she hoped, but the sadness she sensed around her friend kept her demeanor gentle. "It's beautiful, Mia; maybe even more so than it was before.I could enjoy a week or two here, but I don't think I could stay.Might make me soft or something." 

"Soft? What are you talking about Jess? A lot of what we've done we adapted from _your_ city."

"Not _my _city, Mia. My father's city. I don't run it, and I enjoying being able to leave it from time to time. In fact, Kyle and are even thinking of going back to the barrier once Kalyn gets a little older."

"Why not? I don't understand, Jess. I mean, I could never leave Vane—even if I wanted to, I just couldn't."

She laughed, "And that's where we differ so much, Mia. You force this responsibility on yourself."

"I was born into this position, Jessica. Just as you were born into your title."

"My title? Titles are meaningless to me. I have told my father flat out that I'd rather not rule the city. He understands. He has many good years left in him, and if at some time I chose to change my mind, then fine. If not, fine too."

"So what will he do if you don't change your mind? It sounds to me like you're running away from the situation, Jessica."

The beast eared woman turned quickly, almost snapping out her reply. "I never run away from anything. You know me better than that, Mia." She hesitated a moment, as though regretting the strength of her reaction. "Ruling a city, though—especially after seeing what you've had to go through to do it, well I just don't want that headache. It's not that I couldn't handle it. I'm sure I could, especially with Kyle's help—it's just that you don't get a break. I watch Dad run himself crazy with some idiotic things—and that's why he's not here for your Festival, by the way. Some absurdity with the dock masters and taxes again or something. Anyway, he just couldn't leave.It's almost funny, he's supposed to be the most powerful man in Meribia, yet he has less freedom than a bondservant. I don't ever want to be in that position. I want some degree of independence." She paused for a moment and looked at her friend, "And you know what? I can tell you want some of that, too."

Jessica frowned as she saw Mia's perfect face twitch in either self-hatred or anger—she wasn't sure. She put a hand on her friend's back and glanced back to see the ever-present irritation of a guard. "Go away!"

Mia turned to the man, "Please, I'm all right. Wait for me inside. Thank you."

As the guard left, Jessica walked over to the edge of ornate balcony, and looked out over the carefully tended garden and sculpted hedges. Shaking her head she began studying the nearby buildings and the city's complex layout.Most of what she'd seen was familiar, new but still familiar.She tilted her head as she squinted at a thin, bronze colored needle that stabbed high into the sky at the building's corner.

"What is that thing?I've never seen anything like that before.What, you don't want people sitting on the rooftops or something?"

Mia fought a laugh, "No! It's a lightning rod…or at least that's what Artemus calls them."

"Artemus?Who's that?Oh, never mind.What does it do?It doesn't look much like it's made of lightning or anything like that…What is it, bronze?"She squinted a bit as she looked at the skyline of the city."Hey, there's a bunch of them all over the place."

"No, they're supposed to keep us from getting struck by lightning.And yes, she said iron was best but Tamora raised a howl over anything that didn't look 'proper' sitting on top of the guild itself, so that one's Brass or something.Artemus came up with them after the storm that nearly ruined the Guild.She said she got the idea after watching the way lighting kept hitting the bronze statues down in the courtyard. They're supposed to catch the lightning and run it into the ground. I guess it's better than it hitting the buildings. They protect us from storms and thunder mages with very short tempers."

"Well, I guess that makes sense… if anything in this crazy place makes sense."She hesitated for a moment, then looked back to Mia in surprise."Storm? What storm? You never told me about a storm—"

"I… didn't get the chance.It's the main reason we're so far behind. We should have been ready to open a month ago, instead of all this last minute chaos."

"Can't you people control the weather? I mean you can control everything else."

"Normally?Yes, within reason.But this one was too sudden, and unexpected.Besides, it _was controlled… __and created by someone—it was pure magic. I could feel it the second I…" Her voice trailed off._

"It was sent by someone?Couldn't you feel who was behind it then?Who was it, tell me and I'll split his gizzard for shoelaces."

"Yes. I could. Though I didn't want to.I…. I knew right away who created it. I didn't even need to sense the magic. I just knew."

"Well? Who was it?"

Mia shook her head, not wanting to meet Jessica's eyes."That's not important, and it certainly won't happen again."

Jessica stepped closer, leaning over the smaller woman. Her voice was rough and her tone abrupt. "It was Nash, wasn't?"

"That's enough Jess, I didn't say it was Nash!"Her reply was too fast, too forced for Jessica to be convinced otherwise.

"You also didn't say it _wasn't _Nash, and you're being way too defensive for it to have been just anyone.I know Nash has been pain in the backside for most of his life, but why would he want to do something like that?Goddess, Mia, he worships the ground you walk on, and wanted to see this place rebuilt as badly as you.It doesn't make any sense, and judging from the way you two don't talk to each other, this makes perfect sense! But why destroy the Guild?"

"I didn't say it was Nash, and that's _all _I'm going to say about it!"She marched back into the office, not even looking back to see if Jessica was following.

Jessica watched from behind as Mia's eyes fell on a faded sheet of parchment sitting under a small stack of papers on the desk.Although she was trying not to rush or seem too desperate to change the subject, it wasn't convincing. The Guildmaster stepped over, and carefully pulled it from the pile."Jess, since you've brought Nash up, I…. I want your thoughts on something.I…. Nash doesn't know, at least I don't think he knows, that I have this." She said, holding the paper against her chest to conceal whatever was written on it.

Jessica reached for it, but Mia continued. "Let me tell you how I came about it first."

"All right."

Mia motioned to the couch and they both sat down. Once comfortable, the black haired woman began her story. "A few months ago…Goddess, it feels like forever, I sent him out on a mission--something special for the library.I was feeling bad about that, and kind of… lonely.Anyway, I thought I'd try to find something special to do for him, and went to his room to see if I could find…I don't know what I was going to find, but I didn't have any other ideas.

"I think I was looking for some sort of familiarity, something that said 'Nash' to me when I saw it. He was—he is—such a slob. There were dirty clothes everywhere, and papers tossed on the desk like autumn's leaves scattered by the wind.For someone as careful about his appearance he doesn't take much pride in his quarters.Anyway, I looked at his bookshelf and saw his sketchbooks--I'd almost forgotten about them, I don't think anyone else really knows this, but he's a very talented artist. Believe it or not, he's very shy about his work." 

Jessica snorted, "Nash? Shy about anything? Tell me another one!"

"No, really, he is. Anyway, sometimes he'd let me see some of it, but most of it he kept hidden, claiming they weren't ready or not good enough. I flipped through one of them and found pictures of me in various everyday poses—sitting, smiling, reading, sleeping—you name it. I didn't sit for the drawings, so he must have done them from memory."

_I wonder what other poses he had you in... _

"I took another book, sat down on his bed and studied all the pictures. This one had rough sketches of all of us, as if he was documenting our adventure. I stared at those sketches just examining the sweeps of his lines and trying to figure out how he could create such vivid images with just a pencil and memories. I almost cried; they were so real. I felt like I was invading his privacy, yet I couldn't understand why he would keep these things from me. They were so exquisite—so genuine and beautiful.

"I decided I should leave, and as I was putting the sketchbook back, a piece of paper on the bookshelf caught my eye. It had been folded and tucked behind all the others, so I took it out and opened it. It was another unbelievably realistic portrait of two people in ink and paint—a man and woman." She held the paper out to Jessica. " Look at this."

Jessica did so. It was a remarkable work--the colors and shading having been done with exceptional care. The man looked a lot like Nash—but with long hair and a full beard. The female was blonde—blonder the she was—yellow blonde, and very pretty. They both wore strange clothes and ribbons plaited into their hair. Written underneath them was something in a language that looked familiar, but she couldn't understand it. At the bottom wasn't his full signature, just a simple little N.

"So, I took the drawing with me. I wanted to ask him about it—there was something there, I knew it, and I still think so.I… I've wondered if they might have been his parents. He never did talk about them. Don't you remember?Even during the quest he'd ignore every question about it, or snap back with one of those nasty little comments he used to use so often."

"Oh I remember that…and how close he came to getting his butt kicked by the rest of us for it.He did seem to outgrow that, afterwards. I always figured it was your influence."

Mia looked at the parchment over her friend's shoulder, ignoring her implied compliment."You tell me, Jess.Have you ever seen anything like this before?The language, or the way these are dressed?Something about them reminds me of Tempest, but that can't be."

Jessica frowned as she stared down at the portrait."You're right. The clothing's similar to what he and Fresca wore, but I don't know about the writing. It does look like Tribal script, or at least what I remember seeing of it while we were there. Mia, you can count the number of people that can read Tribal on the fingers of your left foot--at least anywhere outside the prairie itself.Besides, that can't mean anything.So maybe Nash copied something he'd seen on one of those 'trips' you kept sending him out on…" She peered at the painting more closely than she had before, then folded it and handed it back to Mia. "I still can't believe that runt did this. Apparently he's got more talent than I thought, other than being annoying like he was last night. Tell me, is that act something new?"

Mia sighed, "Oh no, this has been going on for six months, and believe me when I say he was more civil with you and everyone else around."

"Civil? You call that civil? That emotionless demeanor? I though Ghaleon had been reincarnated for a moment there. And now you tell me he nearly destroyed the city?"

The Guildmaster gave her a fierce look; a hate far deeper in her violet eyes than Jessica had ever seen in her friend. "Don't say that! Don't ever say that!"

She fought a desire to recoil from her friend's reaction, and instead waved a hand flippantly, "Well at least you seem to still care about him, for what it's worth. So, what's his problem?"

"I am the problem."

_Like I wouldn't have guessed...right..._"What did you do to him?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Jessica moved closer to her friend, "Let me tell you something, Mia. Nash may be a lot of unpleasant things, but he is madly in love with you. He would do anything for you—he has told you so himself. Now, at one time, you said you loved—"

Mia interrupted her flatly; "I don't deserve him. Let's just leave it at that." 

"You damn well deserve each other!"

"He doesn't even notice me any more…I doubt he even remembers caring for me."

"Make him notice. Make him remember."

"I don't really know how."

"Oh sure you do! It goes with being a woman. Wear something that will get his attention and go see him when you know he'll be alone. You know, some of the uhh…best times…I ever had with Kyle is when we'd make up after a fight."

Mia closed her eyes, something obviously still bothering her. After putting her dainty little hand to her forehead, she sighed. "Jessica, I have to get some things ready for my welcome speech this afternoon and the reception this evening…" 

Taking the hint, but not really wanting to, she nodded, "All right, but you know, there is no reason for either of you to act so hateful towards the other. If I have to beat some sense into him, I will. Hell, I'll probably enjoy it."

She saw Mia give a weak smile as she left. _Although you both might need a pounding…_

*******

The reception was about as boring as Jessica could have imagined, and she knew Kyle felt the same way. The ground floor of the Atrium had been converted into a lavish banquet. Tables, chairs, and banners decorated the space that only earlier in the day was occupied by mages and guests running through it on their way to somewhere else. She smiled as Mia made her descent down the colossal staircase, but frowned at noticing her friend was unescorted.

She and Kyle had been seated at the head table with the rest of their friends, the Council members and that Gravitt man, and she constantly felt like people were watching her every move. Facing the rest of the room was quite unnerving, and it certainly wasn't conducive to private conversations. _I wonder how interesting I look when I eat…these people need to focus on something else…___

Mia gave a wonderful speech welcoming everyone and outlining the week's events. Then she made history as her decision was announced and she formally extended her invitation for anyone who wished to attend the Guild to do so. A blurred carousel of food and dancing commenced and the crowd seemed to swirl around them until she couldn't tell one from the other. That strange Gravitt person was eating up most of Mia's attention, much to her discomfort. Jessica felt a brief feeling of relief for once at the presence of the guards, seeing how close to her friend a flock of them stayed, not one of them leaving their post, and all keeping their hands ready on their weapons.

She scowled at Nash as he sat in his chair and sulked, his face only softening when Kalyn climbed up on his lap. The little girl managed to get more of a conversation out of him than any adult, and was reeled into giggles when he let her play with the upswept curl in his hair. From her seat, Mia gave a soft, admiring glance in his direction, but as soon as their eyes met, he handed the child back to Kyle, and said that he wasn't feeling well. He stood up and quickly walked away, making quick escape down one of the side corridors, and keeping a lookout over his shoulder for disapproving glances.Finally sick of the entire situation, and tired from the travel the day before, Jessica again used her daughter as a convenient excuse for an early departure, and her husband willingly followed her.

Jessica went back to her room and laid on the bed while Kyle tucked Kalyn in. The little girl must have been either exhausted or bored to death, and quickly fell asleep. Kyle asked if she was all right, and she assured him she was; that she was just tired. He gave her a quick kiss and then fell asleep himself. _Lucky stiff... I wish I could sleep like that. _

She had spent most of the night before awake worried about her friends and had a bad feeling tonight wasn't going to be any better._Yes, she reminded herself, it was she who had prodded them to finally stop acting like scared children and tell each other how they felt. She was so happy for them; they really did need each other. But this…this…whatever it was…it certainly wasn't good. Both of them had seemed to change, and it was for the worse.The frustration of the day seemed to eat at her and she tried to force herself to think back to earlier, happier, memories._

As she closed her eyes, a vision of an especially happy moment slid through her mind. Three years ago, just after Kalyn was born and they had all gotten together, she and Mia stayed up beyond everyone else. They had probably had a bit too much wine, but neither of them seemed to care, and as they stood out on the balcony—the same balcony where she knew her friends had shared their first kiss—the conversation had gotten a little risqué. She smiled to herself as she heard and saw it again in her mind…_Such happy days… back then…_

******

Jessica filled her friend's glass again, "So…are you going to give me the dirt or am I going to have to drag it out from you?"

"Dirt? What dirt?" Mia said as she fixed the slipping neckline of the over-sized shirt that had been obviously liberated from Nash's collection.

"About you and Nash. Or is it just a coincidence that I found you wandering around in his clothes?" 

Mia didn't bother to adjust the garment this time, and instead just let it fall; one of her bare shoulders peeking through the collar of the shirt that draped on her like a tarp. "It's no secret, Jessica. You know that.Besides, it's your fault in the first place, remember?"

"Yeah, I know. And to think, he was so afraid of you rejecting him…I knew I was right. I knew you had it bad for him, too. Although I have to say I don't know why, talk about opposites attracting…but to each her own, I guess."

Mia shook her head, and then took another sip of wine. "He's not as bad as people make him out to be. He's really sweet…and gentle. I knew from the start that all that arrogance of his was just an act. Though I'm still not sure why he felt he had to hide behind it.He's grown up a lot and put that behind him. It's as if he's a completely different person than he was when you first met him."

"I know, and that's one of the few reasons he's still alive.I'd have wrung his neck a long time ago otherwise.But just the same, I'd like to find out for myself why he had to put on that idiotic charade.If he wasn't primping himself he was insulting someone else." Jessica chuckled, giving Mia a smile as she nudged her. "So, do you really love him or what?"

Mia pushed the sleeves of the shirt back, "Of course, at least, I think I do. I mean, I've never been in love before, but if love makes you happy just to be with someone, to know they're there next to you, then yes, because I'm very happy whenever he's around, and I miss him when he's not."

"You think? It's not a think thing, Mia.This has to be something you're sure about.If you've found the person you want to sleep next to every night and wake next up to every morning, and if you can do that without getting grossed out seeing him all unwashed and unshaved, then maybe it is love.And if you can't imagine that person being anyone other than Nash, though I'm still wondering about your sanity if not your judgment there, then I guess it is as simple as that.As sick as it sounds to me, you really do love that idiot."

The Guildmaster traced a finger around the lip of her glass, "If you put it like that, then yes, I do really love him.And my sanity and judgment are just fine, thank you… But if you want to talk judgment, should I bring up the subject of some of Kyle's past antics?"

"Okay…truce, I give up.Seriously, Mia, I'm happy for you.I still think you're more than a little crazy, but you know me. I'd never think of criticizing my friends."She paused a moment, "slapping upside of their heads maybe, but never criticizing."Jessica laughed and downed another swallow of wine before Mia could respond."So…any ideas when we're going to have a royal Vanetian wedding?"

Mia looked away for a moment as she tried to gather her thoughts. "Not for a long time. I have too much work to do without worrying about being married.I mean, right now, I'm married to my job. 

There was a brief silence before Jessica bombarded her friend with a torrent of suddenly important questions. "So no marriage. I assume that also means no little Guildmasters running around, either? Unless…"

Mia closed her eyes in deliberate concentration. "I don't know what you mean. I've been very busy."

_Oh come on…the innocent act is old, Mia… She narrowed her eyes, determined to make her friend understand, hoping she wouldn't have to be any more blunt. "I assume that the two of you have become…very…close?" _

Mia stared at her, "Of course we have. I mean, he's been very good to me, and we're getting the Guild rebuilt…together.He's… he's my best friend."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it. I meant…are you sharing sheets with him?"

Mia's face turned redder than the wine in her glass and she gave a shy smile at her friend. 

That was all the answer Jessica needed before she smirked. "I knew it. Spare me the details, please. I don't want to throw up, but…I have to ask this. You don't have to answer if you don't want to, okay?" 

"All right…."

"Well…I mean, I know all about healing magics, but…that's different from all that elemental magic you two wield…does it…uhh…affect…certain moments?"

"Certain moments? I don't understand Jess."

She shook her head and gave Mia's shoulder a playful slap, almost dropping her glass in the process as the gesture unbalanced her."You know what I mean."

Mia laughed out loud, nearly spilling what was left of her drink."Honestly, Jess, the things you think about!"She took another sip as she tried to stop her laughter, finding it harder to do with each swallow of the potent wine."No, Jessica.For most of us magic requires concentration, to gather and direct the power.Far too much work when you're…. distracted like that.Besides, magic isn't tied to your emotions unless you are an empath, and those are few and very far between." She paused a moment, tapping her cheek in thought, and forcing herself to recite some obviously rather old and well taught lesson, "Although when you get angry, you can feel the rush come from within, sort of like when you're getting ready to fight.That's dangerous though, because you can lose all control if you let anger control you. But no, to answer your question, just…no."

Jessica grinned, "Sorry, just had to ask. I mean, I couldn't help but wonder if you didn't get struck by lightning."

"No, but sometimes it feels like it," Mia said with a sloppy wink, the blush on her cheeks hidden behind the flush the drinks had given her. 

Jessica laughed at her friend, then almost lost her balance on the seat and had to quickly reach down to straighten back up.She looked down to her now empty wineglass and shook her head as she gave a distracted look to the now empty wine bottle."Oh… Then I guess you've not managed to melt or freeze any of his more… tender parts either?"

Mia almost doubled over in hilarity; reaching out to the equally blitzed Jessica and the two of them slid onto the polished marble floor amid gales of laughter.

Jessica gave a very drunken nod as she tried to stand, her legs surprisingly unsteady, but managing the task nonetheless."Woah…that stuff's got a kick like a… a…." She shook her head as she tried to weave her way to the door, halting to a staggering stop as she made out the small outline that seemed to have just materialized at the door.

Jessica really hadn't known how long he'd be standing there, listening to them talk, when he finally made his presence known with "Well, that's where my shirt ended up…" Mia looked over towards the open door and started laughing hysterically at Nash leaning on the doorframe in just his pants. _I hope he didn't hear all of that…_

Mia stood, clearly unsteady as she teetered towards him before holding her arms out,"Don't you want to kiss me?"

He helped her regain her balance, or as much of it as she had at that point. "Yes...very much so...but not when you are drunk.I'd prefer that you at least know whom you're kissing, and right now I'm not sure you even know where you are. You need to go to bed, Mia. Come on, I don't think you should walk.Come to think of it, I'm not even sure you can, right now." He scowled at Jessica as he effortlessly lifted her off the ground and began to carry her to her bedroom down the hallway.

Jessica followed them; Mia laughing as she was carted down the hall while Nash held a cold and wrathful silence. The blonde stood in the doorway of the room they had been assigned as he gently placed her on one of the single beds and pulled the covers up over her. His voice was soft as he spoke: "You're going to have one hell of hang over tomorrow. Better start sleeping it off."

Mia laughed at him and ran her fingers through his hair, in an almost suggestive manner, had she not been so drunk. He pulled away from her, brushing his hair back in an unconscious gesture, but not before giving her a kiss on the forehead. "Get some sleep. You'll need it."

As her friend closed her eyes and almost instantly fell asleep, Jessica started to back away and close the door, but Nash stopped her. "Wait a minute," he said as he grabbed a shirt from his traveling bag and pulled it on.

He walked out into the hallway, and glared at Jessica. "Why did you have to do that to her? Why did you have to destroy her like that?"

"Oh come on, Nash. It's not like you've never been drunk. You're not her mother. She can make her own decisions."

"That's not the point. You...corrupted her!"

"I've corrupted her?With two glasses of Hynat Red?Give me a break, Nash.Besides, from the sound of it I'd say you've done more than your share of…."

He growled at her, "What goes on between Mia and me when we're alone is none of your damn business!"

She laughed at him. "I wasn't even talking about that, but all right, since you brought it up. Yes, she did imply that you have some… hidden talents..."

She wasn't sure in the low light of the hallway, but she could have sworn he blushed. "Enough."He muttered."You're Mia's best friend, but…."

"That girl has got it bad for you. Break her heart and I'll have to break you into tiny little pieces, Nash. Nothing personal, mind you..."

He laughed at her, and then turned return to his room. "You're something else, Jessica. You know that?One of these days I figure out just what."

******

Jessica shook her head, looking over to her snoring husband._I know it's not the sleep of the innocent, but I'd love to poke him just to wipe that drooling grin off his face… I give up!I can't sleep.With an irritated look to Kyle, she slipped from the bed and threw some clothes on, being careful not to wake either Kyle or their daughter. __What the heck, I may as well see the sights. Besides, I've been wondering what changes they made in the rebuilding, and who knows, maybe I'll run into something interesting…_

She had been wandering a good twenty minutes, up the stairs, down the stairs, but wherever she went there was the omnipresent non-descript guard who would give her a respectful, yet suspicious bow. She found herself somewhere on the first floor, and realized that the party from earlier in the evening had already been cleaned up; apparently the mages of Vane and their servants were far more efficient that she had given them credit for.

She stepped down one of the side corridors, and a noise beyond and down the hall had caught her ear; someone, just like her, was restless. She walked down the hallway quietly, and saw a lamp on under a door to a classroom. As she drew closer, she saw the door had been left open a good two inches and so, she peeked in. Sitting at the large desk clearly reserved for the instructor was Nash; his back was to her, and what he was doing up at this hour, she wasn't sure. She stared at him for a moment, watching him twirl a pen in his right hand as he stared off into space. _I don't know what his problem is, but this seems as good a time as any to find out.Besides, this way there's no witnesses.___

She pushed open the door and slipped in, closing it behind her with an audible 'click.' She was surprised when he didn't turn around or even try to notice the noise.His voice, though obviously tired, was one of unexpected self-control.

"Go away, Jessica."

"Nice to see you too, Nash. What are you doing up so late and how did you know it was me?"

He turned around, gesturing towards the brightly polished brass base that sat below the flickering flame. "Your reflection in the lamp. And I couldn't sleep."

She sat at one of the student desks in front of him, and for a moment, considered trying to at least look like an attentive apprentice.That impulse quickly died as she fixed him with a questioning gaze. "So you came here to just mope?"

"Maybe. Why aren't you in bed? It's almost three in the morning"

"Couldn't sleep either, though I'll wager it's for different reasons."

"No doubt, nosiness usually doesn't keep me awake at night."

Jessica ignored his comment, for the moment. "Want to tell me about it?"

"No."

"Let me guess, then. You're tired of being the self-absorbed jackass that that you've spent most of your life as?You're regretting that little scene at dinner last night, aren't you?"

"Thank you for your insight, whatever would we do without you?"He paused for a moment before nodding sadly to himself as he added; "Among other things, maybe so."

"Such as?"

He gave a little sigh as he scratched the back of his neck, "If you really want to know, it's money.There's just not enough to do what really needs to be done, let alone everything that Mia wants. For one thing, I don't see how we're going to be able to pull this Festival off. I know this is important to her, but I don't think we can afford it. More people showed up for that reception tonight than she anticipated, and we have three more of them planned. I'm sure they'll grow as the week goes on, too."

"She seems to think she has plenty of money."

He shook his head."Don't I know it! We've gotten a lot of gifts from benefactors, but…well…"

"Well what?"

"I told you, it's just not enough.Vane's own treasury is all but exhausted, and even the donations haven't made up the difference.With this Festival, we're spending twice as much as we're getting. We're down to looking for silver under the floorboards now."

At her puzzled look he continued."Look, let me give you an example.The faculty of Vane used to get a stipend. Not a lot of money since we've always lived here for free, but most of us have been refusing it. Some of us have even been selling off personal possessions and then donating the money anonymously. Mia would be furious if she found that out, but I don't know if any of us have anything left to help finance this fiasco."

"Money troubles? Is that all of this, Nash? I mean, all you had to do is ask…you'll find a rather hefty donation from the citizens of Meribia tomorrow morning."

"No Jessica, that's not it. Vane needs to become self-sufficient, and Meribia has already been too generous, far more than we have any right to expect.Besides, we can't rely on the good nature of others forever. I don't think Mia sees that.Gregory told me that Vane's always operated on a fairly thin margin, with contributions and tuitions just enough to cover the costs.But now, with the rebuilding… and Mia's insistence on everything being not just as good as before, but better, I don't see how we'll ever finish or repay our debts.

"On top of that, I've been trying to trace some of the donations we have received, so we could thank everyone that's helped rebuild Vane. But… there's just too much money that I can't track.It was sent, and it's been spent, but I have no idea who or where it came from.Frankly, I'm worried that it may have come with strings attached that I don't know about.For all I know we may have a debt we may not want to repay."

"Hmm…I met one of your so called benefactors today. You certainly have a point there. I'm not sure what he wants, but he made my skin crawl." She paused, "Have you mentioned this to Mia?"

He shook his head, "No…we don't…communicate very well these days."

She stood and, with only a few swift steps swung herself up on the desk in front of him staring down into his startled brown eyes. "I noticed. In fact, I told her that you reminded me of Ghaleon. You know, he'd come to see my Dad when I was a kid. That shell, that façade he put up, just creeped me out every time I saw him. When I saw it in you yesterday, I damn near panicked. It was as though his ghost was staring out through your eyes.Then I heard that you nearly destroyed Vane…I guess he did teach you some lessons after all…"

Nash's skin paled as his eyes hardened in response, his voice little more than a grated whisper as he replied;"Thank you for that, Jessica.Knowing I remind you of Ghaleon makes me feel so much better!Would you like to try again?Maybe twist the hilt on that dagger in my back just a little harder?!"

Her voice was a desperate plead as she touched his shoulder, "Please don't scare me like that. Forget the storm for a minute…just the look in your eyes…that hollowness and the way you drag yourself around…"

"Look, I'm sorry. I have to do that when I'm around Mia, but I don't have a choice any more, otherwise I'm… I'm afraid of what will happen to her."

_Oh yes, make her worried about you…brilliant…for someone that thinks they're Althena's gift to women you really don't have a clue do you, Nash? "What do you mean, what will happen to her?You don't think enough has happened to her already? The Fall of Vane, the death of her mother, the betrayal by her… lover?" _

He winced at the apparent painful truth of her last statement."It's a long, agonizing story, and it's late. Just forget it, all right Jess?Besides, to be blunt, it's none of your damn business."

"All right, be that way you arrogant little snot!But I'm going to say this anyway.Something's happened between the two of you, and since it's my fault you're together in the first place that _makes_ it my business.I still don't know what happened, but I suspect Mia must have done something… something she blames herself for and in retaliation you tried to destroy the Guild. She won't tell me what it was _she_ did, but I know she isn't upset about what _you_ did. Can't you just forgive her and move on with your life? And let her back into it?"

"I already have forgiven her. It doesn't matter anymore, anyway.Some things, no matter how desired, are simply never meant to be." With those words he stood, cupped his hand over the chimney of the lamp, and blew it out.As he was nearly out of the room, he turned back over his shoulder and gave a small bow of his head. "Good night, Jessica." 

She stared at him in the near darkness; the chill in his features, and the ice in his voice again reminded her of his mentor.As he left the room, a small shiver began to run down the tall woman's back.

_I have an idea now…but Althena, I pray I am wrong…_


	11. Chapter Ten

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation**_

__Chapter Ten 

_"The thunder rolls and the lightning strikes, another love goes cold on a sleepless night" --G. Brooks _

After searching the Guild Manor for close to an hour, Nash finally gave up and decided (on a hunch) to try the stable yard.After nosing around the unexpectedly busy corral without luck, he finally caught a hold of one of Artie's workers and asked where she was. The young man pointed at the barn and said, "Just don't tell her who told you.She's in one of her moods." The apprentice looked around cautiously and added, "The last one of us that bothered her got a severe tongue lashing and the promise of double duty for the next two weeks." The expression of worried guilt on the boy's face gave the impression he'd just told the lamb where to visit the wolf. 

With a quick nod and a smile of thanks Nash shook off the other's reaction and walked into the dark and dusty building.Up and down the all but deserted stable he searched, carefully stepping between stalls and stacks of tack and gear without seeing any sign of her.It wasn't until he was about to shout out her name that he heard a noise overhead and, ducking slightly, looked up.There, in the rafters of the building's near end and balanced between two massive beams, stood the city's chief engineer. He peered closer to see exactly what it was that she was doing, but really couldn't tell from his position on the ground, a good twenty feet below. He called to her, and she stepped across a few beams and stared down at him. "What? I'm busy." 

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm practicing my Ballroom Dancing, what do you think I'm doing? Or do you think I was just born to answer stupid questions?"She shook her head as the blank look on his face expressed his confusion."Never mind, I was just thinking." 

"You climbed all the way up there to think?" 

"That and to measure. I'm trying to figure out a better way to store the hay and grain we feed these beasts. The hayloft we currently have is way too small, the hay barn is good distance off, and you said letting it get rained on isn't good for them, right?" 

"Right. Moldy hay means colic, not to mention rats, mice, and the chance of fire," Nash replied as he straightened the dark green fabric of his robe. 

"Leave it to you to know about hay—and not just rolling in it!" With that remark she turned her attention back to the long, slender, knotted rope she'd wedged into the corner where the great beam met the stable's wall. Her lips moved silently as she counted the knots, and then with a quick whipping motion, she snapped the rope free and began winding it around her forearm, between palm and elbow, until it was a tight enough loop to tie onto her belt. Her meandering tone continued from above his head, "Anyway, well, what if we closed in the rafters here and cut some holes in the floor. We could just drop a bale or two down at a time, and have plenty of storage space." 

"But how would we get it up there?" 

Her expression was that of near disgust as she glared at him from above, like some sort of bird of prey. "Well if I did things _your_ way, I'd use a levitation spell. If I did things _my _way it'd be a post and pulley off the side of the barn. After all, most of the stable hands are going to be apprentices or students without magic. We can't always count on having someone able to just 'float' the bales where we want them at the drop of a hat." 

Nash frowned, looking away as he shook his head at his own absentmindedness. "Oh. Right." 

Artie continued, her idea blossoming as she spoke, "We would need to make a door on the side, with a ladder or staircase so the workers could get up here.We'd have extend the roof's center beam to hang the pulley off it, and cut a door in the side to swing the bales in." 

He smiled up at her, "Amazing how you come up with these ideas of yours. What prompted this one?" 

"One of the stable boys telling me what a pain in the ass it is to go all the way out to the hay barn and drag the damn stuff down here to fill the loft every few days. That seems like a complete waste of time to me." She winked at him, "Someday I'll teach you to think like an engineer, Nash." 

"Teach away, but come down here first. I need to ask you something." 

Artie started to make her way slowly across the roof joists to a ladder she had placed inside one of the stalls. "First lesson: The glass isn't half full or half empty. It's just twice as large as it needs to be." 

Nash looked up at her in total bewilderment."There's a glass?" 

Still picking her steps carefully, the engineer teetered for a moment between the rafters, her hand reaching out to steady herself against a post. Even from her precarious position, she still managed a retort at the mage. "You're hopeless, absolutely hopeless." 

Nash frowned. Her progress across the beams to the small ladder was taking an eternity; the joists appeared not to be easy for even the fearless Artie to traverse. He called up to her; "Let me get you down. I won't drop you, I promise."

She stopped and stared at him, then shook her head in defeat. "Fine. But if I fall, you're going down with me. Either I break every bone in your body landing on you or I break them the second I get my hands on you after mine are knit back together." 

He smiled up at her, "Come on, it'll be fun! Just try to relax." 

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls!" 

Nash just laughed before he began to cast the spell. He felt the small bit of magic it took pull itself from within, and as he gestured carefully towards the engineer, held a firm look of concentration as she started to glow. She seemed surprised as she was lifted an inch and pulled forward to slowly drop through the gap in the beams down to the floor, landing only a few feet from him. Only when he heard her touch the ground did he dare to breathe. The spell might have been a simple one, but making sure Artie didn't get hurt had been more of a challenge. She'd never let him live it down if he muffed something so basic as simple levitation. Not to mention the likely fact that her sharp tongue was almost as formidable as her right hook. 

"Wow. I never had a man move me like that!" 

Nash grinned. "Call it talent." 

"Or something," Artie scoffed as she flicked at the sweep in his hair playfully. "Now, what is so confidential you couldn't shout it to me?"

His voice was quiet as he looked around the barn, as though to ensure they were still alone. "Did that skylight ever come in?" 

"The one for Mia's room?" 

"Yes." 

"Not yet. Those things take awhile to make, and my glassmaker in Meribia is backlogged. Plus, I don't know where I'm going to get the money for it. Have you priced leaded crystal lately? That damn thing is going set us back seventy thousand silver." 

Nash winced at the price and then looked back to her. "Don't worry, I'm paying for this, its not coming out of the treasury. Just tell me when you need to pay for it. I'll find the money somehow." 

She gave him a puzzled look, "All right. It shouldn't be much longer, I think he's about ready to give up and finish it for me. You'd think I was harassing him or something." Adopting as angelic as a look as she was capable, she continued, "As if I'd ever do such a thing. I'll send someone up there to check on it once this Festival crap is over." 

He nodded, trying not to smile at her exaggerated look of innocence. He turned his head as a sound from outside caught his attention. 

Artie glared at him, and put her hands on her hips as she started to square off. "You made me come all the way down here for that?" 

"I didn't want the whole world to hear." 

She shook her head at him. "What? Like it's some big secret _your _storm destroyed it? Please, Nash. I might have been born in the dark, but it wasn't last night."

He felt his smile fade, the engineer speaking the truth. Anyone with any sense of magic could have felt the source of that night's storm. Fortunately, few had even a clue as to the reason behind it and he wanted to keep it that way. He looked away from the brunette for a moment, as the distinct sound of hoof beats nearby caught his interest. 

"Dammit! I told that girl not to ride this close to the building! I don't want to listen to that racket all day!" Artie's voice was irritated as she marched towards the door, completely forgetting her conversation with him, and clearly ready to tear someone's head off. 

Nash followed her, keeping his distance. When Artie lost her temper, someone was going to lose their hearing—or a few square inches of skin from their backsides. 

As he tried to follow the running woman, Nash noticed that the source of the noise had already passed and moved towards the far end of the cleared stable area, near the entrance to the forest surrounding the city. The rider must have either been showing off or had lost control of what must have been an enormous horse, judging from the sound of it's stride. But, whatever the reason for the disturbance, it was over now. Nash paused; watching as the engineer began looking around in anger then, on seeing a blond man that he recalled meeting only a few days ago, her face broke into a huge smile. She started walking toward the (now surprisingly) well-dressed man as Nash shook his head with a grin. Her rage had vanished, and been replaced with something he'd not seen in Artie before—a sort of almost feminine tenderness. She turned back to the mage for a moment, her gaze telling him to go away._ Try not to be too brash, Artie…you'll scare him off…and maybe this time I'll have a little something to kid you back with…_

Shaking his head and understanding the look, Nash kept his distance. He watched as they talked a few feet from him, not really caring what was being said. The man, Brinson was his name, he remembered, would give a glance over Artie's shoulder occasionally, as if looking to see what he was doing. 

Trying to find something to distract himself from this awkward position, Nash focused in on the horse and rider that had come out of the forest and had started trotting back towards the stable area. The heavy hoof falls made it clear that this had been the source of the earlier noise and Artie's irritation. The massive animal moved surprisingly well, somehow balancing his clumsy frame as he moved with a grace unexpected for something so large. His rider was using an old Prairie trick to avoid being bounced around by the jerky gait. On alternating beats of the stride he would rise up from his hips and then lower himself down in time with the horse's movements. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out the rider's face, but at this distance could only see that he wore brown… though there seemed to be a touch of red atop the head, a hat of some sort, perhaps? 

The banter between the engineer and her new interest continued nearby, pulling Nash's attention back to them. Brinson seemed somewhat amused by whatever she was telling him; he kept laughing and smiling at her. Nash still felt uncomfortable and considered heading back to the barn, but he needed to talk to Artie, to just ask her one final question, but wasn't sure if he should interrupt, and certainly didn't want to waste time tracking her down later. He was happy that she had found a new friend; one that didn't seem scared to death of her, unlike most of the men of the Guild. _Artie certainly works fast once she knows what she wants, and I have the feeling she wants this Brinson…_

Looking back into the distance, he found he could make out more of the rider's features. It was a woman, one with bright red hair that bounced and flowed behind her in a perfect rhythm of the horse's stride. Whoever it was, the animal was far too large for her and probably would have been a handful for anyone, but she was doing fine as far as he could tell. He nodded in quiet admiration at the way she pushed him from an easy trot into a canter, and when he tried to take off, she turned him quickly, forcing him to bend slower around a tighter circle. The animal tossed his head in defiance of not being allowed to run, and she collected him by taking up more contact on the reins and pushing his backend underneath him. _She's good, maybe even Tribal good…_

The woman lifted her head and looked towards their group. Without a warning, she spurred the horse into a gallop and headed straight for them. Nash heard Artie scream, and backed away himself as the horse slid to a stop between him and the couple on the other side. 

The rider scowled at the two, her head turned from Nash towards the others. Her tone was clearly irritated as she addressed Brinson in the Tribal language. Getting a closer look at her, and in particular her features and her colors, he felt his face turn white. Half listening to the conversation, and translating it in his head, he tried to push the thought that came away. It was impossible. 

_"So this is your friend?" _

_"Yes, my love, she is just a friend! Don't you think trying to run us down was a bit extreme?" _

_"You know how Gravitt's horse can get away from you." _

_"No horse gets away from you, my love, unless you wish it to." _

The redhead gave a snort of anger, and then she looked around, giving Nash a clear view of her face. There was no doubt now. Not with those eyes…fire filled blue-green eyes. Sea-storm eyes, his mother had called them. He almost said her name aloud, but forced it back down his throat._ Sabre… _

Still staring at her in shock and disbelief, he barely listened to the rest of her rash conversation with Brinson. This time, she used the common language, and there was just a hint of her accent: "Where is Darian?"

"With Gravitt." Then in the tribal tongue he added; _"I had no choice, you know that."__ _

This last statement aggravated the woman more than anything had before, and without a further word, she turned the horse (being careful to spin it's rear towards Brinson and Artie) and rode back towards the woods at full tilt. A sudden cloud of dirt clods, divots, and dust quickly flew back from the horse's hooves as they dug into the ground to propel the massive animal away from the group. 

Nash just stood there, dazed at the entire conversation, the consequences, everything. It had to be Sabre… But…could it really be her? Is she really alive? It had to be her…no one else had her voice, her colors, her eyes, or that fire-hair. What now? She'd never recognize him, or even think to look for him here. Should he go to her, tell her who he was, and what she was to him? She had the right to know he was alive at least…but what would that mean for him? The second anyone found out that he was from the Prairie, his career in Vane would be over. Everything he had worked for, dreamed of…would just vanish in a second. Who would accept him? He could already hear Orinth now, _"Our new Premier is just a Tribal runt! Why don't we just give the title to a pig? The pig, at least, would have better breeding."_

He must have still been stunned, because Artie was calling his name and he wasn't responding. Finally she tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to her and Brinson. She scoffed at him, "Hello, anyone home? You seem to have an interest in little girls with ribbons in their hair! Are you back to reality now?" 

He cleared his throat, and tried to focus on the words while the questions raced through his mind. Desperately he groped for something to say… and found it, almost blurting out; "Yes, can you make a second corral? I…I think we're going to have more people showing up for this than we had planned." 

She gave him a harsh look, but smiled as she spoke, "You are such a pain in the ass! Next time I see you coming, I am running so far away you'll never be able to find me, let alone catch me." 

He gave her a playful smile, trying to hide the torment he was feeling. "I like a good chase." 

"Hmm…yeah, that's why you're still hunting the one that you let get away, right?" 

Nash cringed at her lack of decency in using certain material in their teasing game. Artie must have realized her faux pas, because a second later he felt her hand on his shoulder. 

"Sorry. Anyway, I'll build your damn corral. Just…stop moping, okay?" 

He gave a faint nod, his conscious still struggling between the two worlds he had been raised in; one that valued family above all else and another where self worth was determined by education, wealth, and social stature. Nearly tripping on his robe, he turned to leave, the others staring at him in puzzlement. To his surprise, he formed a decent sentence, "I'll meet up with you later, Artie—and don't forget the faculty meeting at noon in the Dining Hall." 

Artie waved a hand at him flippantly, most likely laughing to herself at his suddenly distracted actions. "I'll try to remember. Go take a cold shower or something, Nash. You look like you could use it." 

As he walked away, he heard Brinson say, "You're pretty mean to him, you know." 

"Eh, I'm just teasing. Besides, it keeps him honest. Can't let him get that big head he used to have, especially when I'm going to be expected to take orders from him." 

He shook his head, this new dilemma still racing through his head. _Honest…If I had been honest, none of this would have happened…___

****** 

An hour later landed Nash in a rather boring faculty meeting. Although they had just met as a group a few days before, it had been rather brief, and this was their regular meeting day. Festival or not, Mia didn't want to cancel it. He knew there were actually pressing matters to address, but even though he was supposed to be in charge, he just couldn't concentrate. All he could see was a face, an angry face surrounded by a whirl of red hair. In his preoccupied state, he had misplaced the agenda somewhere between his room, the stable, and the dining hall, and was forced to improvise the entire thing. Standing there, behind the podium at the front of the room before all of them, it was all too obvious that his head was in another place. 

Thankfully, most of the meeting was old business having to do with reports from department heads, class scheduling, supplies and logistics. Most of the questions were directed at the people in charge of specific areas. Only a few required him to think, and of those, some of the answers he knew; the others he said he would find out. _I know we need this meeting because of the Festival, but I hope to make them far and few between in the future…_

New business began, and Nash found himself just a touch less consumed by his dilemma. Robin asked for the floor, and he gave her a nod. She waved Gregory to join her, and together they addressed the group, the Master of Healing Magic speaking first. "While some of you might remember the decorum and ceremony surrounding the installation of a Premier, many of you were not even born the last time we did this. As such, Master Gregory and myself, as Sergeant at Arms and Secretary for the Council, respectively, will be conducting a rehearsal so that you all know how to march, where to sit, and your part in the program." 

Gregory nodded to her and then spoke, "Dress for the event is formal. Everyone will be in his or her full formal robes, to be either black or the color of your House. Discipline banners will be worn over the left shoulder, and tied on the right hip. Masters badges—the real gold ones, not the ones that you stitch to your daily wear—are to be pinned onto the banner over the left breast." 

"If there are any questions as to what is acceptable, ask myself or Master Gregory," Robin said, with a look as close to a smile as she'd ever shown. "The rehearsal will be on Friday evening. I understand that is the day before the event, but with the scheduled receptions, it is the only time the Great Hall will be free. Meet there at seven o'clock. We will practice until it is perfect. No exceptions." 

_I didn't realize this was such an affair… _

Artie waved her arm wildly from side to side as she sat cross-legged on a table at the back. "I don't have colors, banners or robes." 

"We'll get you some, Master Artemus," Gregory replied. "See Master Robin following the meeting." 

Robin glared at her. "In the meantime, do you think you could sit properly? Try to remember that you are a Master of the Magic Guild of Vane and not some common laborer! " 

Nash watched as the red-faced young woman slid off the table and into a chair, the tools around her belt dragging behind her with metallic resound. A few older and more decorous members of the faculty gave a snort at the girl, obviously disgusted at the fact she had even been given the title Master. A young mage named Serenity who had been sitting next to the engineer, pat her on the arm in sympathy, but it didn't take the embarrassment from her face. Even Artie knew that you didn't argue with Robin Mikasa. 

Then, perhaps just because the stars just didn't like him today, Orinth raised his hand to be recognized. Nash knew it would mean trouble, but could not in good faith ignore him. After standing up at his seat in the middle of the room, the black haired man bowed politely to him. "Just one question, dear people. I know you're as eager as I am to get out of here." He flashed a smile, one of feigned camaraderie with the group. "I direct this question not to our newly selected Premier, since he seems so distracted today, but to our Guildmaster herself."

A hushed din crossed the room as Mia stepped to the front, motioning for Nash to take her seat in the front row.From that spot, looking up at her, he just couldn't help but admire her…her and her ability to ward off the people who were against her._ She is so calm, so ready…so beautiful…and strong…but I am failing her…she's having to cover for me…again…__ _

For a few moments, the voices of the others faded from his mind, as did the fear that had filled him since recognizing what could only have been his sister still wearing her tribal ribbons. His eyes focused on the trim of Mia's dress—a dizzying silver that played against the bright blue fabric. A matching metallic ribbon was tied into her hair, holding her thick locks off her face. The silver on the dress and atop her head seemed to enhance the delicate shifts of color and the motions below the silken material and on her cheeks. He traced the trim around the hem of her skirt, around her sleeves and finally down the neckline. He noticed a new piece of jewelry, but his eyes quickly moved on to dance over what lay below it, hidden from sight but not from memory, or imagination. A smile formed on his lips as he thought just how easy the dress would come off. A button here, a pull there…she was probably wearing undergarments of the same color... she always liked everything to match…_ _

_Stop it, you idiot! _

Orinth's slippery voice broke into his thoughts: "Pardon my ignorance, Majesty, but exactly how are we supposed to examine and then _teach_ students magic if they do not have any the ability to use it?" 

"If they have no natural talent, they may be able to learn with the assistance of cane or other artifact, Master Orinth." 

"I see. So we are waste time on them in the hopes that they might learn to walk with a crutch? That seems unfair to us, and them." 

"You have brought this argument before the rest of the Guild and myself at meetings past, and I answered it then as I will answer it now, Master Orinth. Knowledge, of magic and other subjects, should be available to all. I no longer see it right to horde it for the privileged few." 

Orinth was holding his ground, and leaning ever so slightly over the table he replied, "Is that why our new Premier is who he is, Majesty? A nameless boy from heaven knows where? Or have you just not forgotten your infatuation with him?" 

Mia grimaced as a dead silence filled the room. No one dared to breathe. In years past, such a denouncement of the Guildmaster (in public no less) was grounds for execution. Mia, however, was much more compassionate than most, and firmly believed in everyone's right to their opinion and their right to express it. Her former friendship with Orinth was certainly not saving him here, much as some must have thought. 

Glancing up at her, Nash could tell from the look she held on her delicate face that his enemy's words struck deep. Infuriated at this man and his treacherous words, he stood up, "You are out of order, Orinth. Save your personal attacks for me in private. You have no right to drag everyone into this!" 

Mia held her hand out towards him, directing him to sit down let her handle Orinth. She walked carefully down the aisle, the soles of her shoes echoing with fortitude as she approached him. Standing in front of the table where he sat, she said, making sure all could hear; "Nash helped save this world. As I recall, you did nothing so brave. I don't even remember seeing you helping us evacuate the city before it fell. Perhaps when you have risked your life for another, or for our world, you might understand the regard in which I, and Vane, hold Nash." 

_Why do you always have to stand up for me? I can fight my own wars, Mia…_

No one in the room moved, except Tamora. Seated next to her son, she pulled on his sleeve, her eyes commanding him to sit down. When he didn't respond, she hissed something to him, and tried to jerk him down with a firm pull on his belt. Finally, although obviously quite reluctant to give in, he surrendered and slowly returned to his seat without a comment to Mia or his mother. 

Mia stepped back towards the front of the room. "Should there be any other doubts in the selection of your new Premier, I ask for them now!" 

There was a moment's hesitation, as though the room was holding its collective breath, and then Gregory stood up. Nash gasped. His friend was going to speak against him? His oldest and best friend?! The old man smiled, "It seems the only one of us who had doubts has shared them, Majesty. I move for an adjournment." 

The Guildmaster gave a gentle look to the ageless mage, relief obvious in her eyes as she paused and motioned for Nash to resume control of the meeting. He walked up to the podium, his mind still in a million different places. As he passed her, she brushed his arm and gave a small smile before taking his seat. 

Posed behind the podium, the Rules of Order suddenly came back. "I have a motion to adjourn from Master Gregory. Do I have a second?" 

Robin held up her hand, and once he nodded at her, said, "I second." 

"Motion has been moved and seconded. All in favor make a show of hands." 

Everyone, except Orinth raised his or her hand. The black haired mage was, to Nash's immediate satisfaction, getting a harsh yet hushed chewing out by his mother. Most of the faculty, he noticed, looked thankful at seeing the end of a rather disturbing and contentious meeting. 

With a smile, Nash called out, "Reconvene date to be posted in the Faculty Dining Hall. Don't forget to enjoy the Festival, and be sure to attend the receptions tomorrow and Thursday. Meeting adjourned." 

Streams of mages walked past him, all offering somewhat sincere congratulations. Artie gave him a punch in the arm and whispered. "Tell ya what. Tell everyone I was with you from twelve to six tonight and I'll have him dead by dawn." 

He grinned, "No thanks. I get that pleasure."

Artie sighed, and as she passed by, flicked his hair again. "Damn! I'm pouring a foundation tomorrow and he would have fit so nicely in with the cement." 

Nash laughed, as he smoothed the cowlick back into place. Artie certainly knew what to say to raise his spirits. Orinth passed by then, the last of the group to leave. Even though the man was sneering at him, Nash couldn't resist the temptation. He waved a dismissive hand towards the tall mage, "Aww…did Mommy spank?" 

Orinth positioned himself as close as possible to the Hero. "At least I know who mine is, you worthless piece of—" 

Nash tried to push him away and into the wall, but the larger man's weight kept him from doing so. There were only a few people still around, but he wasn't watching them—his nemesis had his full concentration. He drew back his right fist, preparing to try and wipe the smirk from Orinth's face. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mia, looking terribly distraught at this display of unbridled aggression. _I'm sorry…_Suddenly, a shockingly strong hand folded around his wrist. Looking up, he saw Gregory. 

The Illusionist had a firm grip on him, "Nash, stop it! While some battles are worth fighting, some opponents are not. Besides, I need your…assistance with something."He looked over to Orinth, as though daring him to interfere. 

Nash saw Mia give a thankful look to Gregory as he was pulled down the hallway. She glanced at him, a pained gaze of some sort, but he just couldn't meet her eyes—not after that little altercation. _I'm so sorry…_He did notice, however, that his friend returned an almost knowing glance to the Guildmaster, which caused her perfect smile to return. 

Nash didn't even try to conceal his rage as Gregory walked with him down the corridor. Orinth had insulted him many times, true, but never in front of the entire faculty. On top of that, he had spoken against Mia. Perhaps that was what enraged him the most—that or the fact that she apparently didn't need his help in handling the situation. 

Finally the ageless mage spoke:"Nash, how many times have I told you not to pick fights with Orinth, or let him pick them with you?Trying to talk sense into that thick skull--" 

Nash almost snarled as he waved his arms wildly, "He insulted Mia!" 

Gregory shrugged. "And she made a fool of him."

He glared at his oldest friend. "I just wish people would let me fight my own battles!" 

Gregory grabbed him by the front of his robe; startling the hot-tempered young man so much he almost lost his balance. With his lips pursed in sarcasm, the old man said: "Oh yes! You have to do everything by yourself! Why? Because…oh my Goddess…you might actually have to thank someone afterwards! What a nightmare!" 

Nash scowled, not knowing what to say, since again, he knew his friend was right. 

Gregory let him go and laughed at him. "Well? It's true isn't it? Now, we have some serious business to discuss, so stop sulking." 

_Serious business?_

Since he hadn't been paying much attention to their path, Nash was a bit surprised when they stopped at the door to Gregory's quarters.The Illusionist gave a smile as they stood there, both staring at the smoothly polished wood of his door, it's surface unmarred by latch, lock, or hinge. 

Gregory's voice was softly reminiscent as he asked, "How many times have you come here, Nash?I remember you pounding on the door just to try and get my attention—at all hours of the night, even."

Nash gave his friend a quiet grin. "Sometimes think I never let you get any sleep when I was a kid—always running down here to ask a question, or maybe just have a good cry. I'm sorry all that changed when I…got to be too proud of myself." 

"I can't fault you there. I know that you had other influences yanking at you. I only wish I had been able to step in, but, as they say, hindsight always seems clearer in the distance." 

Nash shook his head as he looked back to the door."You know, I never figured out how you did that—make a door without any way of opening it." 

The older man laughed as he shook his head."It's something I learned long before coming to Vane, Nash.Came in handy now and then, I suppose." The old man stopped and laughed softly to himself."Never mind… Here, put your hand on the door--right in the center. Now, look at the door as you press against it, and just think 'open.'" 

Nash did as he was told, a puzzled look manifesting on his face. Gregory placed his large and gently wrinkled hand over it. Suddenly, a sudden surge of power flashed through the younger man's palm and up his arm."Gregory! What did you do?" 

Gregory grinned, as the door seemed to shimmer and then swung silently open. "Do? Nothing, it was you that just 'did' something, my friend. Consider it just teaching a new Premier an old trick." 

Nash blinked in confusion at his mentor. "You've given me the key to your room?" 

"I may as well, but I'll explain once we're inside."With that he pushed the young man into the room and, with a small gesture, the door closed behind him. 

Nash could never really remember Gregory's quarters being anything but simple. As with almost every other room, he had the standard issue furniture of the other faculty, but not much was done to personalize the space. Some small paintings hung on the walls, all landscapes of places the old man had visited, and a worn tapestry of dragons and unicorns lay folded over a small chest at the foot of the bed just in the next room. Here in the sitting room there was only a stark desk, with old history books and papers stacked neatly upon it, the ever-present fireplace and mantle, and on the far side of the room a comfortable couch with a small table before it. 

Then something caught Nash's eye; something he didn't recognize sat on the mantle. He might have missed it if the room had been more cluttered, but in the almost stark environment it stood out with its frame of silver, it's edges slightly tarnished. It was a portrait; one he was sure he had never seen before. He picked it up and examined it closely. The man was obviously Gregory, though painted some time ago. The signs of age, even if lightened by the artist, were only just beginning to show in his features, although his black hair was still sprinkled with shots of white. Next to him stood a beautiful woman, one that seemed to resemble Mia slightly--mostly in her serene smile and a certain twinkle the artist had caught in her eyes. Her hair was a light chestnut brown, and while she appeared to be an adult, next to Gregory she looked more like a child. 

Gregory gently took the picture from him, looking down at it for a moment. "Ah…memories are those things we learn to treasure, because people tend to leave us too soon, and too often." 

Nash nodded to himself as his friend replaced the picture on the mantle, a pensive smile forming on the old man's lips. With some surprise Nash realized the frame had been hiding a small white gift box tied with a blue ribbon, one he looked at with curiously before easing himself to a seat on the sofa. 

Stepping over to the small table in front of the couch, Gregory picked up a small clear bottle of blue wine and he turned the bottle so that it's contents swirled in a tiny whirlpool. With his free hand he carefully worked at the cork stopper and its sweet aroma filled the room as he opened it. He slowly poured a measure into two small crystal glasses carefully set next to the bottle. Putting it down, he picked up the flutes, sniffing lightly at one. "Summer-Berry wine. It's made only once every ten years. I've been saving it for something special. I think it's time." 

He held the glass out to Nash, who smelled it cautiously, but followed his friend's lead and didn't drink it just yet. 

Gregory lowered himself onto the couch, rubbing his finger around the mouth of the glass. "I assume you know what being the Premier of Vane means, right?" 

Nash sat next to him and answered, a bit annoyed at the simple question."Of course. It means that I run the Guild and represent us to other states." 

Gregory frowned slightly, then gestured for him to continue. "I meant beyond that." 

Nash set his drink on the table before muttering, "It means that she and I will have to start speaking with each other again, if we are to keep things running smoothly.Personal feelings no longer matter." 

Gregory's voice was a little too neutral for Nash's liking as he asked, "Mia didn't explain all the… implications of your acceptance?" 

"Implications?" 

"Traditions—old ones that we aren't supposed to be using any more. I had hoped she would have told you about them, even if they are now of the past." 

Nash looked at Gregory with sheer perplexity. 

The Illusionist waved his hand. "Never mind. I imagine you'll find out soon enough.Tradition or not, some things just seem to be… unavoidable.You'll learn that soon enough, son." 

Nash nodded, but wasn't following the old man's logic. 

Gregory sighed as he placed his glass on the table, the sapphire wine suddenly swirling inside as if pulled by some unseen force. "Before we celebrate your accomplishments, something else must be attended to." The Illusionist pinched his nose as he hesitated for a moment before he asked somberly, "Tell me, honestly, do you want to be Premier?"

Nash was taken aback; this was the last question he'd expected to hear."Of course. Why wouldn't I? It's one of the highest honors that exist in the world." 

The elder mage scratched his chin, "Yes, yes it is. But why do you want it? I had assumed that you learned your lesson about power and it's price, the last time. When you betrayed your friends to follow Ghaleon." 

Nash closed his eyes, memories clashing with dreams, both real and long shattered, in his mind. His voice was soft as he spoke, sounding as distant and as hollow as the look in his eyes. "I did, and that will haunt me for the rest of my life. I was wrong; I thought it would save Mia, and my own rotten hide in the process. I betrayed her and everyone, yet they trusted me again and…." He shook his head as he looked up to the older mage. "I know I never be with her again, ever. She and I both know that, even if we don't want to admit it. But I want--I _need_--to be there. To support and help her in anyway I can. She's terrified of all of this Gregory! She puts on a good front, but I can tell that sometimes she's still that scared little girl I fell in love with! She seems to think she has to prove to everyone that she can do this, and that she has to do it alone. Can't anyone else see that? It's not fair. She shouldn't have to bear the burden of an entire city by herself!" 

He gritted his teeth for a moment, hesitating before he continued. "I know that a lot of our…problems… are self inflicted, I know mine are. But I think that if I could delegate some of that authority for her, I would be able to help shoulder at least a part of her burden." He lowered his voice and nearly whispered, "And in doing that and other small things, I hope to make up for at least some of my… my failures." 

Gregory smiled broadly and, for the first time, took a deep swallow of the azure liquid, raising his glass to the young man with a gleam in his eyes. 

Nash followed suit, taking a suspicious sip of the drink. Although he had avoided anything alcoholic since that night in the tavern, he felt obligated to drink what Gregory had poured. The taste of the liquid wasn't what he expected. There was no bite, no heady warming. Instead he felt a thrill run through his body as though every sense and sensation had been raised to a new level.The surprise on his face must have been obvious as the old man smiled at him for an instant. 

The Illusionist grinned, seemingly unaffected by the potent wine."Good!That's exactly the answer I wanted, and needed to hear my boy.Now, the Council is going to demand two things from you.One is that you have incredible powerful magic. That, of course is not a problem." He chuckled, "In fact, sometimes I wonder if I hadn't brought you here if our weather patterns might have remained a bit more… predictable." 

"And the other?" Nash asked, his tone miserable as he dreaded to have the answer confirmed. 

"Your family position here in Vane—your name and status." 

Nash's expression melted into despair."Then I may as well give up now.You know what they'll find—nothing! Or worse, they may stumble onto someone from the Prairie, or someone who remembers us from that scene I caused in Reza!" 

Gregory placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. "No, you will not give up. Answer this: does anyone else, besides myself, know of your heritage?" 

The expression on Nash's face was grim, almost reproachful."No. I intended to tell Mia, after we got back from that mission she sent us on, for those Tribal books."His eyes closed as his face flushed in humiliation."You know how that story ended." 

With a sigh the old man nodded."Indeed, and Goddess knows what would have happened to you if I'd not found you that night.My horse almost walked over you in that downpour--another few minutes and you'd have drowned in the mud. Regardless, I am not going to let you give up. Some things are just right, decided by fates we cannot control." 

Nash stared at his friend completely bewildered. Gregory could work some high-powered magic, this was true, but no one could change another's destiny. That alone was reserved for Althena, and she didn't exist anymore—at least not as the deity she had once been. 

Gregory shook his head at the depressed statement on Nash's face then stood and walked to his desk. The young mage watched as his friend pulled open a drawer and retrieved a scrolled paper, a pen with ink, sealing wax, and a candle. Carrying them carefully back, he arranged the items on the table in front of Nash, but held on to the scroll. 

When he was finally seated back on the sofa, Gregory seemed to search for his words. Never before had Nash seen this man as inarticulate as he was at this moment. His eyes were bright and hopeful, but something was pulling at him. Finally, he seemed to give up and, with a small grin, spoke softly. "Don't worry about the Council, Nash. I've already taken care of them." 

"But, how?" He asked, his voice nervously quiet. 

Gregory held the scroll out to him with a benign smile. "Please, just…read. I never really was very good at doing things like this." 

Nash looked down in shocked surprise as he carefully unrolled the document.It took only a moment to recognize Mia's elaborate mark next to the ornate seal of the Ausa family, and the small, neat, signature of his first friend.The document itself was brief, only a handful of lines. Yet within it he could see his life, and future. 

_Let it be known to all within the walls of Vane and beyond: _

_On this day, the first of May, in the fourth year of the reign of Mia Ausa, the following decree has been made and posted, with all parties involved in agreement: _

_Master Gregory Telka, Senior Master Mage and Member of the Council of Elders, has on this day adopted into his family, and named his heir apparent, the person formerly known as Nash of Vane. Who was born on April the eighteenth to parents unnamed in the first year of the reign of Lemia Ausa and, by our command and wish, named Premier of Vane.All traditions, rights, duties, and titles of the House of Telka are hereto forth conferred upon the individual now known as Nash Telka. _

_Signed and Sealed on this date, so shall it be now and onto the end of all time. _

_Mia Ausa_

Nash stared in awe for a moment as the weight of the words on the page hit him in the face. He looked up at Gregory, as he fought the choking feeling in his throat, and the burning in his eyes. "I don't deserve this, Gregory. I betrayed you when I became Ghaleon's apprentice…I…I can't…accept this. I can't…" 

The Illusionist waved his hand, his voice a little tight. "You made up for that, when you helped destroy him at the end.And your acts since then have done even more to show me that you are worthy of any honor I, or Vane, can give you." 

Nash was still shaking his head in disbelief and self-reproach when Gregory gave him a sincere smile, but seemed to be blinking back tears. "Besides, you know I have no children of my own--at least not yet, and at this point I don't expect that to change. I need an heir, you need a family, and I've been calling you 'son' as long as I've known you anyway. Ageless I may seem, but no one is immortal, least of all me. I know this is long overdue, but I also know it's right." He picked up the quill and held it to Nash, "Now stop stammering and sign the damn thing."

Nodding slowly, the younger mage accepted the feather and, pressing its sharpened point to the document carefully signed his name, his elaborate script dwarfing Gregory's simple mark. It felt strange adding the surname he had just been given, as if it was too fresh to be using. 

Hesitating as he finished the signature, he asked, "Gregory, Mia signed this over a week ago. What is this, some sort of conspiracy between you two? How long have you been plotting this?" 

"Quite awhile, I just didn't know how to approach you about it. Your…ego sometimes seems to run rampant, and I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. The only 'conspiracy' here is one born out of love, respect, and admiration for a stubborn boy that doesn't always realize who his friends are--or how many there are that love him." 

The old man smiled as he took the scroll from the still stunned Nash and nodded down to the slightly sloppy signature. "I'm glad I wasn't the one to teach you penmanship, son." Setting the scroll down on the table, he picked up the squat red candle. With a soft word he lit the wick and allowed it to melt the tip of the blue sealing wax, turning it constantly in his fingers to prevent it from dripping. "It's been ages since this was used, Nash." When the end had melted to his satisfaction, he rubbed it next to his signature, making a large blot. Setting the soft stick and still burning candle aside he twisted the black gem on the ring he wore on his right hand, lifting it slightly until the stone came free. Carved into setting behind the gem was his seal, and, turning it slightly in his hand he pressed it into the soft wax. After a moment, he lifted his fist and glanced down, nodding in approval at the imprint it had made. "And thus is it done." 

Nash was still mystified by all of this, but Gregory's seal intrigued him. Looking over his mentor's shoulder, he saw that it was a stylized capital T with some kind of dragon-like creature climbing the shaft, its head resting on the crossbar. "I never knew what your seal looked like."

Gregory corrected him, "Our seal. I told you I hadn't used it in awhile." He stood up and pulled the small white box from behind the picture on the mantle, and then placed it in Nash's hands. "Open this." 

The younger mage pulled the ribbon from the box and looked down at the gift; an exact copy of the gold ring Gregory wore, the seal hidden from view by the same black stone. Slipping in on the middle finger of his right hand, it oddly heavy, as though holding centuries of tradition and power within it as he looked down at it, almost able to make out the concealed engraved image at its heart. 

Gregory smiled and took his hand. "Nash of Vane is no more.From this day forth your name is Nash Telka.May it bring you the respect you have earned, and may you bring it the honor it demands."The Illusionist embraced him;"You are now my son by law, as you have always really been, regardless of the paperwork." 

Nash returned the hug; still stunned at all that had just transpired. Was the answer really this easy? Would Orinth leave him alone now? Could…could it all be as it had those years before? 

Gregory released him, and then stood up. Reaching into the pocket of his robe, the ageless mage said, "One more gift, my son. I hope some day to see you wearing the colors of both your families."Silently, two ribbons, one red and one blue, were placed into Nash's palm. They were not as dirty or as threadbare as he remembered them; Gregory had taken much care to have them cleaned and rewoven. 

Nash closed his hand tightly over the ribbons, the new ring seeming to glow slightly as it touched the soft fabric. He put them in the inner pocket of his robe, giving a small sigh, much to Gregory's obvious disappointment.Looking up at his friend, his happiness faded, as the encounter with the woman earlier returned to his mind. Then he spoke the words he had used far too often with the Illusionist. "Gregory, I have a problem…" 

The old man did as he always had, and always would when he heard that phrase. "Tell me what it is." 

The young mage rubbed his face, the band of the new ring almost scratching him. "Sabre—my sister—she is here, in Vane. I saw her today, in the stable yard, still wearing her colors. She must have come for the Festival." 

Nash shook his head, still trying to accept it as real and the possible results before he continued, his voice both desperate and pleading. "All these years I thought she was dead--she was captured by the fiercest tribe to ever have lived on the Prairie, no one survived them… no one. I'd… I'd given up ever finding her, ever seeing her again." He paused, "She looked right at me but didn't recognize me. Gregory, if she realizes who I am, and tells anyone…your making me a part of your house doesn't matter. You can change my name, but it won't change what I really am or what Vane will think of me if…_when_ the truth comes out." 

"We're not changing what you really are, Nash.Only you can do that. I'd have thought..." Gregory raised an eyebrow at him, "You mean you don't intend to tell her that you are even still alive? Don't you think she deserves to know?" 

"Yes of course she does, and I am delighted to have found her again, but—" 

"But what?"

"But now, her being here can destroy everything—everything that I've worked for. She didn't recognize me today and I don't think she will, if I don't say anything. But… but I believe she has a right to know. I should be ecstatic to have finally found her, but instead I'm scared to death!" 

With a laugh the old man slapped him on the shoulder."Now that you are my son, maybe you'll listen to me a little?" 

"I've always respected you, Gregory I just can't…" 

"Horse shit, Nash!" He shook his head."No, if you'd listened to me, this would not be a problem and you wouldn't be this walking image of death you're always pretending to be around _certain_ people.I knew you were an actor, you convinced me of that a long time ago, but I never realized you were this good." 

Nash was annoyed. "I'm talking about Sabre, not Mia. Can we not bring that up?" 

Gregory frowned at him, "As I see it, they are both part of the same so called problem. Once you reconcile the past, you can live in the present, and hope for the future." His eyes seemed pained as he said, "A wise young lady named Relina Ausa once told me that. I should have listened to her." Then with a sigh he added, "So, why don't you try accepting Mia's apology and get on with your lives.You're not just hurting her, or yourself, but everyone who cares about either of you.The two of you were put together for a reason--you can't deny that." 

Starting to concede, he asked, "And Sabre? What should I do about her?" 

"I can't give you any advice on that. I think you know what is right—at least I hope you do. If you don't, then I've not taught you much of anything these past ten years." 

Nash started to reply hotly, then stopped as the moment of outrage melted in the light of realization.He had the decency to look ashamed as he replied; "I…I guess it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" 

"Of course it doesn't, and it never did! Everyone has so called dirty secrets, but they are only filthy to those that keep them and let the mud pile upon them, or try to dig them up and wallow in them." 

Nash muttered, "Not everyone does. Mia doesn't. I'm sure of that." 

"You're wrong, but it's not my place to tell you any of them. In time, all secrets must be revealed, and it's the time for yours." 

He glared at Gregory, as if the old man had just insulted the Guildmaster to her face. 

Gregory ignored the look and continued speaking. "Now, while we have taken care of that little technicality for the Council, the question remains as to how you will tell Mia the truth." 

Nash gave an incensed scowl, but the Illusionist reprimanded him quickly. 

"Get that look off your face. You will tell her, and soon. You don't have a choice, my son.The only question is when. Now, or later when it may be too late?" 

****** 

Nash wasn't really sure what to do. There were too many options to consider, too many consequences to be handed to him on both sides of the dilemma. After talking to Gregory, he knew what he had to do, but wasn't sure how. He bid farewell to his adoptive father and snuck back to his room, relieved no one saw him disappear from the day's festivities, other than his guards.

These new attentive sentries were not what he wanted to deal with right now, so in fit of anger he chased them off, the two outside his suite leaving quietly while muttering something about temperamental Premiers. The one inside the parlor put up more of a fight, but a threat of a thunderbolt eventually made him vanish. _I don't need these idiots! They should be more worried about Mia…_

Content to finally be alone, he just wanted to think. He had to make some kind of plan; a well developed strategy. Mia must be told, and before he was instated. She deserved the truth and a chance to rescind the offer. Being Gregory's heir didn't change what he was; it was just like painting a portrait. While the artist could make his subject look taller, or less aged, the image is not the person, and no skill of the crafter's hand can alter what is real. _It's not that I'm not grateful for everything he has done for me, and he really has been my father in more than name…I just…I don't know…but at the same time, I also don't want to give up my chance at what I've always wanted and dreamed of…Goddess, I should be ashamed of myself…_

Now, Sabre was a different story. That would be a happier, easier discussion at least. He would reveal himself to her and could ask her not to tell anyone they were related until Mia was informed of his secret. She would honor him; by the laws of the Tribes she would have to, although being dishonest was certainly a crime punishable by death by the same canon. Not speaking of something was not necessarily lying; a thin line, but it could work. He would find her tonight, and then Mia in the morning. It would all fall into place. _Of course, I thought that the last time I had plans…_

****** 

Nash and Gregory left the tavern in Nerak, in the hopes of riding day and night, to make it back to Vane in only three or four days. Even in the cold December weather, they managed to lather the horses as they paced at a swift gallop, slowing to a walk only when the animals could run no further. Even at his age, Gregory some how managed to keep up with Nash for the first day and half, but then the ageless mage pulled his horse to a stop as the sun sank into the sky. "We have to stop." 

Nash took advantage of the moment and reloaded his crossbow. "We can't stop! The seer made it sound like she's in trouble, Gregory. We've got to get back. There isn't time to stop!" 

"Didn't your last encounter with a fortuneteller teach you anything, my boy?" 

Nash gritted his teeth, "This is different!" 

Gregory dismounted and loosened the cinch of his saddle. "You can go on, but I'm staying the night here. Tomorrow we'll ride straight through for another day and half and make it back, but I'm not doing that while I'm exhausted, and these poor animals need a break. Besides, even taking turns we're almost out of magic, and we need it to light our way. If we rest, it will rejuvenate." 

Nash turned his horse in a circle, debating whether to ride off or stay. "Dammit Gregory! She's in trouble! I know she's in trouble!" 

Gregory sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Tell you what, if I can prove to you that she's all right we camp for the night, okay?" 

The young man looked at him dubiously, "How are you going to do that?" 

"I'm the Master of Illusion Magic, remember? I'll think of something," he replied with a grin. "Take care of that horse. He's been good to put up with you running him into the ground and kicking him like a maniac." 

Grudgingly, Nash dismounted and freed his horse of its saddle, walking it to a nearby stream for some water. _I better not regret this, Gregory..._

As he led the horse back to camp, he saw that Gregory had started a fire and was sitting next to it, eating a piece of bread. The Illusionist looked up at him, frowning slightly. "Are you sure… are you positive you need to do this?" 

Nash tied the horse to a tree, and nodded, taking some fruit out of his saddlebag that was lying next to it. "I… I need to.Can you let me see that she's okay, that she's safe?Can you show me that everything's all right with her?" 

The older mage laughed, "You've got to be desperate, and Althena knows you'll be a grumpy, distracted, and very unpleasant traveling companion if you don't get over this."With a small sigh he nodded."Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.We may as well do this right. You realize that this goes against just about every rule of Vane? Spying on the Guildmaster isn't something taken lightly." 

"I'm not spying! I'm worried about her!" He paused, "What do you mean spying?" 

"How else do you think I'm going to convince you? You won't be satisfied with anything less!" Gregory shook his head, "Either way, you realize the consequences of this?" 

"Yes, I'll take full responsibility," he said hastily. 

"No, we're in this together. Come, stand here." 

Nash did as he was told. "What are you going to do? Make her appear in the fire?" 

The older mage scoffed, "That's child's play. You could even do that yourself if you knew the spell. You want to see her, right? You're going to see her—the real her, and in real time." 

"How can you—" 

"Do you want me to do this?" Gregory asked, a little more annoyed than not. 

"Yes! Of course!" 

"Then be quiet!" 

Nash held his hands up defensively and remained silent. 

Clearly satisfied that his friend was not going to ask any more questions, the Illusionist closed his eyes for a moment, crossing his arms over his chest with the palms open and pressing against his shoulders.For a brief moment his lips seemed to move as though speaking silently to himself, yet there was no sound, and even that small movement quickly stilled.Then, existence… as it had been… ended. 

Nash stared around him in amazement.He would have sworn it was real, if he hadn't known otherwise. Gregory was a true master at his craft; all of his senses were absorbed in the mirage. The cold clearing, the tall and bare surrounding trees, even the warmth and crackle of the campfire melted away before him as reality swirled about him, abruptly snapping into a new and very different scene.Suddenly he was standing in Mia's bedroom, feeling the soft carpet under his feet and smelling the fragrance of the fresh flowers she kept on the small table near her bed. _I know we're breaking Guild law...but I just need to see her... _

The glass door to her private balcony was open and the wind caught the drapes in a dance, inviting him to wander toward them. He did so, feeling the breeze on his cheek as he walked through, the rays of the Blue Star offering some degree of guidance in the darkness.He glanced down, surprised to see the faint shadow he cast in the illusion in the Blue Star's light. _Gregory is amazing...and this is...real...I hope she doesn't sense me...or maybe I do...I don't know... _

And there she was. Standing with her back to the door, dressed in one of her favorite nightgowns, and looking out into the direction he had traveled when he left Vane. Her raiment was a purple pastel, which though light in color, still managed to contrast her ivory skin. She had pulled her hair atop her head and fastened it there with a clip, exposing the nape of her neck and the top of her bare back. She must have been cold, he guessed. For although he couldn't feel the temperature, the image was so detailed, he could see goose bumps on her neck. 

He smiled as the breeze caught the translucent dress, pulling it away from her body for an instant and then back again, pushing the straps off her shoulders in the process—a detail she didn't bother to fix. Instead she just leaned further over the stone rail, keeping her eyes focused on the distance. 

Now, just an arms length away, her delicate scent—the smell of gardenias—her favorite flower, caressed him. Whatever Gregory had done, it was perfect. As if in a trance, he moved closer, and just a little to the side so he could see her face. He knew the look she wore all too well...worry. Those violet eyes, trained on some unreachable vastness, full of anxiety, concern... and....was that a hint of loneliness he detected? 

He reached a hand out to her, to try and touch the back of her neck, to let her know he was there, that he was all right, and that he would return soon. He gasped when it just slipped through her as if she didn't exist. Like washing a paintbrush in water, the colors melted together, and while it was pretty, but it certainly wasn't tangible. With a sigh, he took his hand back, and watched as the image restored itself, filling in the spot he had damaged. _Idiot...it's real but you're not...to her at least...at least one of us isn't real. _

Looking again at her, he noticed she carried something. When he realized what it was his despair dissolved and he focused on just observing her and her companion. She cradled a small stuffed toy in her arms, a toy he had given her on her birthday two years ago. For some reason, she'd always had a strange affection for an ugly little monster called a Gorgon. Many would call the thing absolutely hideous, with its large one eye and tentacle like arms, but she just adored it. It had taken weeks to find a toy maker willing to create a stuffed replica of the strange beast.The old seamstress had clearly doubted his sanity as he described and drew it, but the smile on Mia's face when he gave it to her was worth all the effort and odd looks. She had said it was the best gift she had ever received; from that day on it sat on her bed during the sunlight hours, and watched over her at night from her dresser. 

He listened as she started a conversation with the toy. She spoke to it as if she were a child again, confiding all of her secrets to her very best—if very imaginary—friend. "I wish he'd come back, Lil Gon. I miss him so much...I can't believe I sent him away like this. Or for so long... It's so lonely here... When we first started rebuilding and he'd ride off from Meribia, I'd miss him, too. I didn't know how to tell him that, but I always waited for him to get back. I never wanted him to leave...and now I've sent him off..." 

_I don't think I'm supposed to be hearing this, but... Despite his hesitation, and a small nagging feeling of guilt at being there, he continued listening to her private thoughts. _

A quiet remembering smile formed on her lips as she paused, and then told the doll, "Can you believe it's been three years? Three whole years, Lil Gon! I remember we were standing out on a balcony like this when he kissed me. You weren't there so you don't remember." 

_I remember...I was so nervous... I half expected you to laugh at me, or slap me and run away. _

She sighed and looked down at the ugly doll. "You know, before she died, Mother told me that she really liked Nash. She said I was lucky to have such a good friend, and someone who loves me as much as he does. She told me 'we all make mistakes, Mia. If we're lucky, we're given a chance to make up for them.' She said that he had, and she was proud of him; for all he did for us, for me, and for Vane. She told me I shouldn't be afraid of what I feel, and that I should be happy. Mother said she was happy...once." 

Thank you, Lemia. I know I didn't deserve your forgiveness..._ _

"He was right, Gon...about my...overzealous behavior as of late. But I just can't sit back and do nothing. I have to rebuild the Guild. My mother loved it, and I let it fall." 

_Not this again! You did what you had to do, Mia. It was unavoidable! If only I were there to tell you that… _

"But Nash was right; I can't keep going like this.I'm tearing both of us apart, and… I need him, even more than the Guild needs him I need him.I need to step back, and think about myself for a little while. I want to be happy. I don't want to be a workhorse forever.If only for a little bit, I… I want to be...just me." 

_Finally...I want you to stop being everything to everybody as well...I want my Mia back...Then, we'll find a way to make your dream real. Together. _

She sighed, and kissed her friend, right on it's giant eyeball. "He used to keep hinting at wanting to marry me, but he always seemed afraid to ask me directly. I'm kind of glad he didn't..." 

His eyes closed tightly in intense torture as though some great hand had grabbed his heart, and he put a trembling hand to his face. _I knew it...Not good enough... Still trying to hide the tears that were about to come from her, even though he knew she didn't and couldn't see him, he kept an ear on what was being said, but it only half registered. __ _

"I was scared, Gon. I know that sounds silly, but I really was...that I'd say yes, and what might happen. My family carries a terrible curse, and Mother said, that because of...my father...it could be the exact opposite for me.So...either way it rears up, it would kill Nash. One way or another...he'd just get hurt." 

He didn't move from his anguish filled pose, but managed a thought...._ Your father? You've never mentioned him, Mia. What curse is this? I wish you would tell me. Perhaps we can break it...__ _

She smiled again and pulled the toy closer to her, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But I want to tell you a secret, Lil Gon. I'm not afraid anymore. I want to be happy, even if it's just for a little while. I want to ask him to marry me. I don't know what he'll say, though. He tried to talk to me about it a few times, and I kept dodging him because I was afraid. I don't know what I was afraid of, but... I'm not anymore.Now I'm sure.I'm nervous though. Maybe you could do it for me?Could you ask him for me?" 

His hand slid off his face elated astonishment, wiping the tears away as it did. _Oh Mia...I'll be home soon, I promise! And...and...then I'll take you into my arms and I'll ask you myself! _

A soft sigh of exhaustion came to Nash's ear and he felt the illusion start to fade, the edge of the balcony blurring softly and slowly began to shift into the darkness of night. Before she vanished from sight completely, Mia turned to look over her shoulder with a surprised, almost desperate expression, and stared directly at him. As the vision diminished and she too faded into the night, he heard her speak his name in a confused whisper..._ _

He reached out, calling back to her, but the dark clearing again surrounded him and only the soft crackle of the now dim and dying fire could be heard in the cold night's air.He turned, grasping his companion's cloak in a fury of excited anxiety.

"Gregory, you have to do it again! I think...I think she knew I was there." 

"Of course she knew you were there. She's the Guildmaster of Vane. Sensing magic is second nature to her. Let's just hope she isn't too mad at us.I didn't exactly use magic against another member of the Guild but this was questionable at best.Eavesdropping is not considered especially polite, even in the best of causes." 

_But when did she know? When...oh I pray it was before she spoke...I pray..."I'm serious! You have to! She could be in trouble! Please!" _

"Settle down, Nash. She's fine. She has an army of guards at her disposal. Who is going to hurt her?" 

He tried another approach, "She looked so...sad." 

"Probably because she's lonely. But remember that she sent you on this mission, so she'll just have to miss you for a few more days, all right? Besides, that little far-see just about exhausted me.I don't think I could cast a good fog right now, let alone a convincing illusion. Farseeing isn't all that difficult, and most illusions… well, call it a gift. But putting you into a combination of the two is another matter.Anyway, I'm tired and I need to sleep." 

Nash scowled like a child whose toy had been taken away. 

Gregory laughed softly as he poked the fire with a heavy stick, tossing a handful of branches and a small log onto the it before laying down on his worn bedroll "By the way, son, proposing marriage to a woman in a mirage is neither appropriate nor very romantic, not to mention a tad futile." 

Nash's mouth dropped open, "How did you—" 

"One of the little side effects.I was there, remember? I heard everything she said, just as you did. Now get some sleep."With that he slid into the warm blankets and closed his eyes. 

Nash blushed, suddenly realizing that he'd had an audience in his intrusion of Mia's private conversation.Then, hoping to distract the other, he asked, "Gregory, how did you do that, anyway?You didn't gesture and I couldn't hear any spell being called.You didn't move or say a thing.Every spell requires at least a gesture or incantation, usually both."

Gregory's voice was soft, almost slurred in his exhaustion as he replied without opening his eyes."Just one of those little things you pick up after awhile…" His voice faded into a soft snore as Nash stood there in confusion. 

Nash got very little sleep that night and had the horses tacked by the time Gregory got up the next morning. Gregory kept his half of the bargain, and so Nash would keep his, but they would not stop again. No, he had to get back. Now. 

From that moment on, Nash accepted no excuses. He pressed harder, faster, and grew impatient with his mount and Gregory when they would try to walk or catch their breath. Two straight days of riding later, they finally caught sight of the city.It was close to midnight when the wall of Vane finally came into view, and he knew they could make it in an hour, if that. Gregory had been using his magic to light their path, while Nash took care of any enemies or roadblocks that deterred them. Although the Illusionist was obviously extremely tired, he kept riding. 

Suddenly, the ageless mage stopped his horse and dismounted. He leaned into the animal's shoulder, forcing it to pick up its right foreleg. "She's got a rock—I'll need to get it out before she goes lame. Nash, go on ahead. I'll catch up with you."

"Are you sure?" He asked, more for formality than the answer.

"Yes. I've been on adventures since long before you were born. I can handle myself for an hour's ride." He pulled a silver light from his cloak and handed it to Nash. "Here. It's the last one. Take it."

Nash took the mystic item with a grateful nod, and crushed it in his palm to let its radiance rebuild his powers. He smiled at his friend, and then spurred his horse on, looking back only once. He kept his eyes focused on the wall. Kissed by the unusually bright light of the Blue Star, it appeared to glow a deep azure touched with a bit of green. Something troubled him as he approached._Midnight bright? Midnight bright? Midnight bright!! Mia!! I'm coming...hang on... _

He pushed the horse even faster, racing into the city gate and not slowing down until he was right in front of the Guild entrance. Turning slightly in his saddle, he yanked his crossbow off its straps on his back and then reached into his rear saddlebag for some spare bolts. Then, finding the strength to use a trick from his childhood—dismounting while the horse was still in mid stride—saved him valuable seconds. Once he felt his feet hit the ground, the shock absorbed by a deliberate bending of his knees, he raced inside. The animal had obviously been trained by Prairie warriors and stopped the second he felt his rider's weight leave his back.The exhausted horse stood in a lather just outside, probably content to have a moment to catch his breath. 

He barely felt his feet as they hit the marbled floor, echoing with an ethereal sound of dread down the empty hall.He loaded the weapon as he ran, not even needing to look at it as he did so. No one was in the corridors at this hour, and all the hallway lights had been extinguished. He didn't need them though. He knew exactly how many paces it was from one place to the next, but figuring that at a dead run and with a mind full of panic was near impossible._ Is she in trouble? Hurt? De—no, don't even think that!__ _

Past the Great Hall, past the classrooms, up the curving staircase, past the faculty wing...and down the long private hall to the Guildmaster's rooms. In his mad rush Nash slammed into someone heading towards him as he made the corner.He tried to slow down but couldn't, and ended up colliding with Darshak, one of Mia's private guards—and commander of the night shift. He dropped his weapon and grabbed the guard's collar, "Aren't you supposed to be on duty?!" 

It took a moment for the stunned sentry to answer; he was still in shock from the impact and from the appearance of the man who was wringing his neck. "Majesty Mia...dismissed...me for the night, Master Nash. She dismissed all of us. That was at least three or so hours ago. I went back by every so often to see if she needed anything else, or to check for anything suspicious, but the door to her bedroom has been locked." 

Nash stood up, and looked at the man incredulously, before grabbing his weapon and running the rest of the length of the hallway, and then into her now unguarded and open private parlor. As he did, he fumbled in his pockets with his free hand, looking for his key—she had given him a master to all the locks in the Guild—even her room. _She's got to be in trouble! But why dismiss the guard? She never—not even when we—dammit...where's the stupid key?!__ _

Delving into the deep pockets inside his robe he found it, and with hands shaking of adrenaline and fright, he slipped it into the keyhole, and slowly, quietly, pushed the door to her bedchamber open, aiming his crossbow defensively in front of him..._Better keep my guard up, in case it's a trap...__ _

He looked around carefully before setting foot inside. It was dark, very dark, but light from the Blue Star sprinkled in through the skylight above and illuminated the wall with Mia's dressing mirror and desk with its bent rays. He had surprised her with that addition—so she could look up at the clouds and still feel like she was flying. 

Nothing seemed out of place, nothing at all. 

_All that for...ah well...I'm home, and...heh...Maybe I'll just wake her and surprise her...and then tomorrow, I'll tell her everything… I guess maybe I am an idiot now and then, everything's...__ _

He stepped closer, and something caught his eye on her desk: an empty bottle of wine lay on its side with two glasses. _Why is she drinking? Two glasses? A friend to talk to, perhaps? __ _

He put a hand to his cheek and felt his unshaven face as a wry smile grew on his lips. Four days, no baths, no shaves, no changes of clothes. _I must look a mess, and stink to high heaven. I'll just wake her to tell her I'm back...and then I'll go clean up and sleep...and we can talk in the morning...and I'll ask her....__ _

Anxious to see that angelic face, and dying to just watch her sleep, he moved closer to the bed, reached out a gentle hand and started to pull the heavy violet bed curtain back. 

Shock, hatred, and about thirty other things he couldn't describe suddenly consumed him. She was there, yes, sound asleep like a porcelain doll, her black locks kissing her pillow and her white skin...The picture he imagined she'd be, these past weeks. The dream he wanted to wake up to, to come home to... 

But she was not alone._ _

He let the curtain fall from his hand, ragged rage filled breaths curdling inside him. Slowly, in obvious distraught, he raised his arms, and closed his eyes...and began a silent chant...but something stopped him. Guilt? No, it certainly wasn't that. Fear of getting caught for using magic against another Guild member? No, definitely not. After a moment, he knew damn well what it was, and let his arms fall to his sides, waving in a sorrowful motion of defeat. _Outdone, outsmarted, outsomethinged.. by the son of one of the Elders... It's her choice, and... she's made it.... it's… what she deserves... Some one worthy of her, with a family name to give her.I love you, Mia...and I will respect your decision...I just wish...oh hell... _

One foot at a time he backed silently out of the room, the quarrels of the last few months filling his head. _"He's just my friend, Nash. We were kids together, Nash. Why are you acting like a jealous little boy, Nash? You're driving me crazy, Nash! Do you not trust me, Nash?" _

The sorrow and the pain seemed to diminish with each step, and in their place he found his rage, his temper, and everything that he had worked to control well up inside him and devour his soul. As he closed the door, he felt his face contort into something almost animalistic, and without another thought, he raced outside of the Guild, his cloak flowing behind him like a battle flag. 

Growling audibly, he made his way back outside, the anger and loathing building within. His horse was gone, but he didn't care. It didn't matter anyway. He flung his crossbow to the ground. Nothing mattered anymore. 

It had been years since he had used Wild Magic—everything since had been trained, calculated, and associated with special words and focus points. He had forgotten the amount of power just one call, one summoning could bring. He crossed his arms across his chest and felt the Storms rise from within him—he could feel the electricity in the air, smell the thunder and hear the pelting rain. 

He threw his arms to the sky and with a shriek watched as the Storms appeared and began their assault. Hail fell; winds beat the sides of scaffolding; thunder rattled windows, which blew themselves out; lightning struck with enough power to blast a tree straight out of the ground. And through it all he screamed at the clouds as if commanding them with his voice. 

He let the Storms rage for two full hours, allowing every iota of magical ability to be ripped from his body. All of his power, his Gift, raw and driven by brutal rage was used against the symbol of his hatred and anger—Vane. 

_**Author's Note:Now, before y'all say Mia was acting out of character, wait until you hear her side of the story. ^_~ _

_ _


	12. Chapter Eleven

Author

_Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to Norma Peters, the wonderful person who has given so much of her talent to illustrate it. Happy Birthday, Norma! --K_

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation**_

__Chapter Eleven 

_"The truth is rarely pure and never simple."—Oscar Wilde _

Sabre was in near panic, and nothing anyone could say or do would calm her. Gravitt had taken his horse from her before noon, and swung himself into the saddle without even bothering to thank her for saddling and warming it up for him. While she was used to his lack of gratitude for everything that she provided, it was most disturbing when he'd shown up dragging Darian behind him. His harsh "do it" to her as he held the child in his arms from atop his horse was her cue to force her son to sleep before they left for parts unknown. As usual, Gravitt had offered no explanation, no expected time of return, no nothing.Even though she knew the boy wouldn't know what happening to him gave her little comfort. She knew she should be used to Gravitt's lack of details, it went with his lack of a human soul.But he had never just taken off with her child before, and with everything as strange as it was in Vane she couldn't help but fear the worst. Her sense of helplessness against her master surged forward again, adding to her worries. _Gravitt is soulless, but I pray, despite his threats, that he would not kill his own child…Not out of spite, surely not... please, Goddess!_ _ _

She shook her head, thinking of that moment again.It was becoming harder to 'force' Darian to sleep—she wasn't sure why. Of course, his powers were starting to develop, and she had been tired lately, but it still didn't make much sense._He wasn't growing that fast, was he?Nothing seemed to make sense anymore, least of all anything having to do with this trip to Vane. __The freedom, no Philip or Marcus, the man in the Tavern, the special room…_ __

Although her mind was in a far distant place and darkening with worry, Sabre had spent the entire day in and around the stables awaiting Darian's return.At first she had tried doing every chore she could think of, praying for something to keep her mind occupied.When those ran out, she began pacing blindly from one end of the barn to the other in anxiety. One, two, four, then finally six hours passed as she worked without rest until exhaustion began to creep up on her and, totally drained, she felt her legs start to give out from under her. Somehow, over the hours, food had become distant and unimportant and she had not bothered to return to the Guild for lunch or dinner.In her mind she knew this was just adding to her fatigue, yet in her torn heart it seemed irrelevant. 

Hours later found her still in her current position--sitting cross-legged on a hay bale outside the barn, watching the horses wander about in a newly constructed corral. Off in the distance she could see some workers starting to build another one, and they were being ordered around by the same woman that Brinson had shown some interest in earlier.

She frowned to herself, feeling a pang of guilt after her little display on the giant bay that morning.For an instant she almost stood to walk out and apologize to the dark haired woman, who had clearly doubted her ability to stop the horse. But then, she decided against it. Brinson was all that she had, and no snotty Vane-taught girl who looked like she hadn't brushed her hair in three years was going to take him from her. Besides, she had that handsome man in the mage's robe following her around. Did she really need two? 

Although she had been angry at him after the incident with the girl, Brinson had made it his mission to stay with her all day. His presence was comforting, but even his kind words, jokes, stories and songs hadn't been enough to take her mind off Darian. About an hour ago he had announced he was going to find the two of them something to eat, and with a touch of his hand to her hair, he left. She hadn't even nodded a response to him; her eyes and her mind were transfixed on the distance, hoping, praying, that she would see them coming out of the forest's shadows at any second. 

_Brinson_… She smiled as she thought of him. He was her oldest and best friend, and in many ways the only family she'd known. Although she would trust him with her life, she also knew he was a romantic idiot. Gravitt's threats didn't deter him, and her warnings were usually ignored. Sadly, there had been too many close calls when he wouldn't listen to her, far too many. 

Even as children, whether as slaves to the Setin or hired 'friends' by Ziggratt for the animal that had become their master, he had always been more than kind to her. She would always remember their first night in Briggatt; the walls were dark, the bed was strange, and she couldn't sleep. He had snuck into her room and had tried to put her mind at ease with an old Prairie song. _He has the most beautiful voice…__ _

The first time he'd tried to kiss her he had learned the hard way that her warnings were meant to be taken seriously.She fought a smile as she remembered the smile on his face as he had leaned forward to sneak a quick peck on her cheek, and the dazed grin he'd given her as he tried to pick himself back up off the floor afterwards.But even that had not deterred him. 

Of course, when it was time for Darian to be born he wouldn't hear of not being there with her. As it started, the midwife (who was really just Gravitt's cook) had tried to force him to leave, but he adamantly refused.After the old woman had placed a thick sheet over her, Sabre had begged him to leave, out of fear for his own safety, though she really didn't want him to go. He must have sensed the dilemma in her voice, and took a hold of her gloved hand as he sat next to her, promising to stay for the whole ordeal.

Then, by intent or accident, just as the pains started to become unbearable and the baby about to come, he touched her forehead. Whatever he felt at that moment, she didn't know and he'd refused to tell her, even to this day. Somehow he had managed to shake it off and remained there with her, still holding her hand with the same gentle strength as before. She would always see that moment in her dreams; those gentle tawny eyes shuddering with horror at the obvious agony she was in and, she suspected, he had just experienced.

Later, when her son was asleep and she was resting, she tried to yell at him, but couldn't bring herself to do it, and ended up crying instead. There was so much to consider! What to name the baby? What kind of life had she brought him into? What would Gravitt do about all of this? Would he kill the child? Would he see the boy as a threat on his seat of power? Would he just bide his time until he could exploit his own son? What if something happened to her? She didn't want Gravitt raising the child—he would turn him into a killer. She was scared; and she begged Brinson to stay with her that night. He smiled as he vigilantly brushed her hair until she found slumber, and then slept on the floor next to the bed without even so much as a blanket. _As mad as he makes me sometimes, I know I could never live without him. He's become my other half, even though I didn't want it to happen, it's not fair to him, to either of us... _

Footfalls began to separate themselves from the din behind her and drag her out of the all too bitter memories. She turned her head to see Brinson, walking quickly towards her and carrying a large basket in his right hand. The fine clothing he had been wearing since they arrived in Vane might make him look respectable to others, but to her, he appeared a bit silly and out of place in them. Even in the distance, she could see him smiling, and knew just by the swishing of his ponytail that he had gotten into some kind of mischief. _Sometimes he needs more watching than Darian. _He came closer and sat next to her, smiling at her as he opened the parcel. 

"I brought you something." 

She jumped off her spot on the hay bale and trotted towards him, still suspicious of the smile on his face and, for the first time that day, noticed the grumbling of her stomach. "I hope it's food, I'm starving." 

He smiled as he sat down on the hay-covered ground, motioning for her to do the same. As she did, he placed the basket between them and grinned even wider. "Yes, I got food, but managed to pick up a few other things as well." 

She moved closer to peer into the parcel, but he pulled it away. She scowled at him. "Well are you going to show me or not?" 

He laughed, pulled a box wrapped in a bright black ribbon out of the basket, and handed it to her. "I went to the Festival and hit some of the vendors, and found this. I thought you might like it." 

She pulled the ribbon off the small box and, opening it, looked down at its contents.Within lay a small wooden necklace, its pendant in the shape of a galloping horse, the carefully carved mane flowing over the curved back. Sabre turned it over in her hands, admiring the way light seemed to play within the wood's dark grain and polished surface.She looked up at him in surprised wonder; no one had ever given her jewelry before. "Its beautiful…" 

He grinned at her. "I got Darian something, too." From the basket he produced a hand puppet in the shape of a dog, its soft brown rabbit fur and bright button eyes bringing radiance to her face as she looked at it. Brinson gave a little fond laugh. "After all, he keeps saying that he wants a puppy." 

Sabre smiled, as she put the necklace on, fumbling with the clasp a little. "He'll love it." Then her face clouded as she looked at him. "Where did you get the money—for all this?" 

The blonde man shrugged as he brushed her hair. "Gravitt gave me some. He insisted that I appear as a gentleman, and gentlemen spend money. Don't you think, my love?" 

She leaned on his shoulder, shaking her head as she smiled in disbelief at how impossible the moment seemed, yet delighting in it. "Well, I guess." 

He reached back into the basket. "Enough chat, let's eat." Yet there was something in his smile that promised her there was more to come. 

Brinson had bought what seemed to be a meal and a half to Sabre--meat, fruits, bread, and even some cake for dessert. She couldn't remember ever eating that well, and with him for company, she almost forgot about Darian. As they finished their dinner, she asked in wonder; "So was all this from the reception, the big party you were telling me about?" 

He shook his head, "No, there isn't one tonight. Only every other night—I guess even Vane can't afford more than that. This came from the vendors. I still can't believe just what they have to sell here—anything you could ever want!" 

"We'll have to go again, the three of us —when Darian gets back, or tomorrow. The quick pass we made yesterday wasn't nearly enough time to look at anything." A worried look crossed her face. "I wish they'd get back. He's been away an awfully long time now." 

He nodded, finishing a bite of cake. "We will, and Darian will be fine, Gravitt's got plans for all of us here, you know that. Even if we don't know what they are yet." He paused, "Sabre…are you all right? I've never seen you as tired as you have been the past few weeks." 

She grimaced, "I don't know what's wrong. I've never felt like this." 

His words were edged, but he held the anger in his voice in check as he asked, "Gravitt hasn't…I mean…you don't think you're…" 

She said quietly, the distaste for the entire topic surfacing in her tone. "No, he hasn't, and certainly not recently enough, so no, I'm not pregnant." 

Brinson seemed relieved and quickly changed the subject. "Oh, by the way, I know our 'master' is going to make me go to that reception tomorrow. He only let me off the hook for the first one since I only had my riding leathers, nothing he wanted me to be seen in at anything so fancy. Do you…do you want to come with me? We could buy you a dress. I'd love to take you." 

She shook her head emphatically. "I don't want to be paraded around like some prize mare in front of the entire city of Vane. I can't stand these people anyway. They keep their women unarmed and half dressed. Its disgusting!" 

He glared at her, "You really should give this place a chance, Sabre. You should see the Library, its unreal! I've dreamt of coming here my entire life, just to see that place. These people aren't bad; they are just different. They feed intellects rather than horses or sheep and they value education rather than money." 

She scoffed, "Really? If that was true, then the place wouldn't be covered in gold and silver, and people would dress normally." 

"To them, this is normal and has been for a thousand years. We are the ones that are different." 

"I know that!" She looked away from him; he was right, but there was something about Vane she didn't like. She wasn't sure what it was, but having her sword taken away from her at the gate certainly did not make her happy from the start, and the people here seemed to be both soft and arrogant—a combination that confused and bothered her. 

He leaned back on his elbows, and looked up into the dusk as he pleaded to her. "Sabre…come here, please?" 

She moved closer to him, and he sat up. "What?" 

"Sit here, with me? For just a minute?" He said, patting the ground between his legs. 

She smiled. At least they had some time to be alone, and with the sun going down, the Blue Star's light was more than inviting. She sat where he asked, leaning her back against his chest and feeling his breath on her neck. _He is a romantic idiot, but I can be, too…up to a point, anyway._

He pulled at her hair, twisting small pieces of it in his fingers so delicately she closed her eyes with a soft sigh. After a long moment, he whispered, "I have another surprise, my love." 

She turned to look back at him, "What?" 

"I bought something else at the market, too. For us." 

"What is it?" 

Lifting her slightly, he reached into the inner pocket of his shirt and held out two black silken gloves, the light dancing as it shifted and bent while passing through the thin material. 

She shook her head at him sadly. "I can't wear those. They're too thin, not to mention two sizes to big." 

"Not for you, for me. The man that sold them to me said they are almost fully resistant to any magic." 

She crossed her arms over her chest nervously, "Brinson…I…" 

"Shh…don't be afraid. I won't hurt you, and these won't let you hurt me," he said as he pulled them on. 

At first she feared it would be like Gravitt's touch… cold and unfeeling…something that made demands and only took.But it wasn't…It wasn't anything like that. She leaned back on Brinson again and felt two fingers brush against her neck. She winced, wondering what had happened to him. Apparently it was nothing for then he put the back of his hand on her cheek. She turned around and faced him, tears in her eyes. "You can touch me!" 

His smile was faint, as he held up his hands. "Yes, but only with these…and I still can feel a faint tingle, although nothing too…bad." 

She kneeled in front of him and whispered, "Touch my face. Touch my face like you would kiss me." 

She closed her eyes and felt him do as she asked; a tender sweep of her cheek, then a touch of two fingers to her lips, and pushed opened her mouth to brush against her tongue. The soft gloves then moved to touch ever inch of her face, as if tracing the lines of her life. She shivered in a strange kind of excitement, and heard him give a small whimper in return. 

Opening her eyes she looked at him in wonder; he seemed so sad, yet ecstatic at the same time. Putting his hands tenderly on her arms, he leaned her back, helping her to lie down on the dry hay next to him. He crouched over her, kissing her with his fingers again, and then trailing them, still moist from her mouth, down onto her neck. 

Again his hand found her face, and she felt it trembling ever so slightly. Another touch to her lips, and then he whispered, "Sabre…oh Sabre…I love you…" 

She smiled up at him, seeing his eyes bright and wide, and then taking the hand from her face she gripped it and wove her fingers around his. He kissed their hands, still bound together, and then leaned over her again. Still keeping their hands knotted, she felt him slowly pull on her shirt with his free hand until it came free of her belted riding breeches.She looked down and watched with an almost worried anticipation as he fought with the lowest button on it, then the next few, and finally the top one. 

She raised her head up, watching in wonder as his fingertips ambled along her abdomen; the silken gloves just exciting her more. She fell back again, letting him support her, as his hand began to gain more confidence in its quest. It was like nothing she had felt before—as if his touch was burning her, waking her mind and commanding her at the same time. His breath was ragged as it escaped his lips, and his hands shook even more, but laid her palm on his cheek to tell him it was all right. 

Just as his silken-covered fingers dared to roam higher, a sudden ruckus from behind jerked them both erect. Hoof beats, heavy ones, and they were getting closer. Sabre pulled herself to sit up fully as she tried to close her blouse with her hands and hide the flush in her face. Brinson was staring at her, seeming both mesmerized and desperate as his attention was torn between her and the approaching horse. The source came closer and the animal stopped only a few feet from them. She knew who it was without having to look—only one enormous beast made such noise, and dragged a foot when he cantered. She swallowed and tried to shake the strange dizziness from her head as Brinson touched the back of her neck one last time. 

Gravitt glared at them as he let his mount step forward and stretch its neck down to a small pile of hay near them. The huge man growled, "Well, one of you get over here and take this brat off my hands and stable the idiot horse."

Sabre stood up, and let a sigh of relief escape her lips as Gravitt slid the sleeping child from his lap into her eager hands. He was still fast asleep; probably the work of Philip or Marcus. In the darkness she did her best to check him for cuts, bruises or other afflictions, but could find none. _Thank the Goddess… _

Gravitt dismounted, gruffly throwing the reins of the horse to Brinson. Sabre gave him a gentle smile as thanks, but a second later she was regretting that small sign of gratitude. Gravitt growled at her, "Put that child down, and get yourself back over here. Quickly! I don't have all night." 

Reluctantly, she followed his orders. She couldn't tell what he wanted, but he didn't seem to be angry. She placed her son on the hay bale she had been sitting on earlier and returned to her master. 

It happened too fast for her to realize what he was going to do. Her hair was pulled, and an elbow slammed into her stomach. She felt herself fall to the ground and land on her knees. With a grunt, he grabbed her collar and hauled her back to her feet, the breath that had been knocked from her lungs still fighting to come back. Half a second later, his vicious hands pulled open her unbuttoned shirt, and she felt something cold and metallic pressed between her breasts._Whatever he does, I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry. _

Gravitt sneered down at her, twisting the blade of his knife against her skin. His voice was quiet, but his words carried the volume far louder than any scream. "So you little slut, did you forget that I own you and that bastard child of yours? Did you forget what I promised to do to any man that touches you without my permission?! Or to you?!" 

Sabre kept her gaze focused far ahead of her master, ignoring his question and trying to put out of her mind the fact that he just might kill her right there. She had asked Brinson long ago to take care of Darian should anything ever happened to her. At least that detail brought her some comfort, since pretending this wasn't happening certainly wasn't doing much good. 

Gravitt growled at her, "I'm talking to you, you little whore! Answer my question!" 

She looked at him and said calmly, the words coming from her heart rather than her mind. "Go ahead, kill me, Gravitt. Get it over it. Quit playing your stupid games." _I hate you. You can't even give me an honorable death.__ _

He snarled as he grabbed her hair again, this time licking the side of her neck. As she flinched from the monster's dominating false affection, a glance behind him yielded a glimpse of Brinson, who was watching the entire scene in horror, obviously torn between terror and a desire to attack Gravitt. 

The cruel man ran his rough hand in the same spot that had just recently felt Brinson's delicate touch."Don't you wish you do this? Don't you wish you could touch her the way I can? Do you want to watch me tame her? She can be rather…wild. You might learn something." She closed her eyes to steel herself as she saw his free hand unbuckle the belt around his waist. _Darian, please…stay asleep… _

Brinson looked like he was about to cry as he tepidly stepped forward, the horse following him. His tone was a twisted staccato as he pleaded, "Gravitt, no. Wait. It was my fault. I'll take the blame. Please." 

_Brinson…no…just let him finish his bullying… _

A noise behind her stopped Gravitt--the sound of the bumbling gait of her son. "Mommy!" He called as he approached the three adults. "Mommy! We went on an adventure!" 

_Oh Darian…no… _

The footsteps behind stopped. "Mommy? Are you playing again? Can I play, too?" 

Gravitt snarled as he sheathed the knife, releasing his brutal grip on her, and gave his next command in a harsh whisper. "Cover yourself before your bastard sees you, bitch!" 

She pulled her blouse together, straightened up, and turned to her son, "Oh, we were just talking Darian. Come on, let's put Brutus away. Ok?" 

Brinson held the reins out to her, and kept his glare on Gravitt. She knew that look; hatred was seeded in those delicate dark eyes, and it was an emotion that frightened her coming from the quiet blonde man. Yes, Brinson was certainly capable of being enraged, and their master knew just which buttons to press. 

Her friend spoke quietly, "Take it out on me, Gravitt. You shouldn't need to beat up on a woman to get your thrills."_ _

Gravitt looked at her, "Get out of here and take your son!" She walked away, but glanced back at her friend. She was only a few feet from them when she heard their master laugh as he stopped as turned to take out the rest of his aggression on Brinson. "How noble and chivalrous of you, Loverboy! You want the blame? Do you think you're man enough to take it? I'll give it to you in spades!" 

Sabre wanted to go back, or even just look back, but getting Darian out of the crossfire was foremost in her mind. As he bounded happily around her, she couldn't take her mind off the man that she loved, and who was out there taking her lashes for her. 

As they walked into the well-lit stable (the glow globes common in the Guild were used here, too) she quickly put the horse in its stall and tossed some hay over the door. A yelp from outside brought her mind back to the reality of what was happening just a few feet away. Darian looked up to her and asked, "Mommy, what's Brinson doing?" 

"He's talking to Gravitt. We have to stay here. It's private." She spoke these words solemnly, and prayed her son did not understand the tone. 

"Ohh…like secret?" 

"Yes," she said quietly, petting the nose of Gravitt's enormous horse, who had been aptly named Brutus. She grabbed a brush from a pile someone had carelessly left on the floor near the animal's stall and went inside, after reminding Darian not to follow her. 

Hiding from her son on the far side of the horse in the darkness, she pressed her face into his neck and wept. Everything she had ever wanted had almost come to her that night, and now in the distance she heard those dreams being broken again. Gravitt had almost killed her; had almost raped her in front of Brinson and her…their…own child. For what? Spite? What claim did he have on her feelings? He could own her, but not her soul, her heart, and how they made her feel! And Darian? What would have become of him if Gravitt had killed her? She wasn't so sure that monster was going to let Brinson live through this, and that was her fault. What would she do without him?

Brutus either sensed her discomfort or was curious as to why the small human was leaning against him and turned his head to nuzzle her. She scratched his withers and he rubbed her again. It wasn't much comfort, but it was something._ Oh Brutus, you've got to kill him for us…throw him or something…please…_

Darian's voice called into the stall, "Mommy, are you done? Can we brush Matze next?" 

It took a moment for her to compose herself enough to answer him, and even then it was strained. "I'm done, Darian. Let's go see if Brinson and Gravitt are done talking. Then we can look in on Matze" 

"Ok Mommy." 

She climbed under the horse's neck and gave him one final pat before she left him with his hay. Lifting Darian up into her arms brought her some joy, but she still dreaded having to step outside of the stable. Keeping her son turned from what was going on behind him, she tried to engage him in conversation, hoping that from the door she could at least see what was happening to her friend. 

Gazing into the distance as she talked to her son, she saw that Gravitt was using more of his intimidation tactics than his abuse ones; she almost breathed a sigh of relief as she watched Brinson be berated, rather than beaten. She saw their master take something from him—she guessed it to be the gloves—and shake them in his face.Then, with a dry mouth, she asked her son, "So tell me about the place you went to."

"It was big. And metal. And it smelled funny." 

"Funny, how?" 

"Like old and rusty and stuff." 

"Oh. What did you do there?" 

"I got to walk around. I didn't have to sleep until we came back." 

"Were Philip and Marcus all right?" 

"Yeah. But they weren't happy." 

"Why not? Did they tell you?" 

"No, but I think it was because of the Bird Man." 

"The Bird Man?" 

"He looked like a bird. And he smelled funny, too." 

She stopped talking and forced the last of the tears down her throat as the conversation in the distance abruptly ended. Suddenly, Gravitt grasped Brinson's shirt, swiftly driving his knee into the other's groin with all the strength he could muster. The smaller man was lifted several inches into the air by the impact as his breath was pushed from his lungs in surprise, his eyes popping open in shock and agony. 

Darian interrupted her instinct to run towards him, "I gotta ask something, Mommy." 

She nodded, still watching her best friend, her lover, writhe on the ground in pain as her own heart broke. 

"Gravitt told me a secret today. He told me that I am his nephew. What does that mean, Mommy?" 

The question caught her off guard, and as a curt response formed on her lips, Gravitt turned to look directly at her and a sinister smile crossed his lips as if to say that he was glad she had seen what he had just done. _You are going to lie to your own child and then use him as part of this?! I swore I'd never claim you as blood, and I will keep that promise!! Still, she had to find an answer to satisfy her son.__ "It means…it means just that he is looking out for you, that's all." _

"Oh. Then why is it a secret?" 

"Maybe because people in Vane are a little strange." 

"Oh. I kinda like it here. Its very pretty." 

"Yes, it is." 

She shook her head as she watched Gravitt laughing callously as he relished the sight of Brinson curled up in unspeakable pain. Then, carrying on as if nothing had happened, the huge man turned back to him and said, purposely keeping his voice loud enough for her to hear, "I expect you at that reception tomorrow, Brinson. See if that engineer girl will go with you—she seemed to like you and could prove quite useful. We are moving ahead with the plan and I'll need your…expertise." 

Darian either heard the angry words from outside or sensed her distress and started asking, "Mommy? Mommy? Mommy are you mad at me? I didn't wanna go." 

She choked on her words as Gravitt finally left, wandering in the direction of the city gates. "I'm not mad, Darian." _Not at you, anyway. _

Clutching her son tightly to her side, she ran to Brinson the second Gravitt left her line of sight. He had managed to sit himself up, but was clearly still in misery. Although she couldn't know what it felt like, she did her best to sympathize. 

"I'm sorry," was all he said as he looked up towards her, but didn't meet her eyes. 

"No, no need to be sorry." 

Darian looked between the two of them, confused and anxious to get away from the tension. "Mommy, put me down." 

She set him on his feet and watched as he walked a few yards from them, looking sad and bored until a lightning bug flew by, giving the boy an innocent distraction from the reality of malice in the world around him. 

Under normal circumstances she would have given a motherly smile at her son, but her attention at the moment was focused on the man who sat on the ground in front of her, taking in short, shuddering gasps of air. She stooped down to him and saw his jaw clenching in frustration. She knew what he was thinking…after all this time, there was some way, and while it wasn't perfect, it did work. Maybe they would find a way, a real one in here Vane. In the meantime, they could at least touch, but it had been too short—far too short. 

She whispered his name, "Brinson…" 

He just shook his head, and repeated, "I'm sorry." 

She put her hand on his face and whispered into his ear, "I love you." _I want to be with you…even if it has to be like that…_ "Thank you, for trying." 

He smiled at her, with a small wisp of that soft, shy smile he usually wore, but she knew he was troubled. With a sigh he whispered, "I love you, too. You know that." 

Darian followed his prey and as it flew off, leapt between the two adults. He pulled at Sabre's still lose shirttail and said with a pout, "Mommy! I'm hungry." 

"Gravitt didn't feed you?" 

"No Mommy." 

Rage filled her eyes, and she saw Brinson shake his head in disgust as he painfully hauled himself to his feet, leaning forward slightly as though afraid, or unable, to stand straight. She put on a smile for Darian as she said, "Then we need to find you something to eat, don't we?" 

Brinson reached into his pocket and handed her some silver. "Get him some dinner and I'll meet you back at the Guild." His eyes softened, "Besides, I have that surprise to give him." 

Darian jumped excitedly, his thick dark-auburn hair bouncing with him. "A surprise for me? What is it?" 

The blonde Tribal laughed, "You'll see. But only if you're a good boy for Mommy." 

"I will be! I promise Brinson! I promise!" 

Sabre smiled at him again as her hand brushed his arm, "See you soon." 

****** 

The Festival's market yielded a healthy meal for Darian, and after having to drag him away from a crowd watching an acting troupe, Sabre headed back to the Guild to finally go to bed after a completely exhausting day. The entrance to the Manor was as busy as it ever was, as if the City of Vane never went to sleep. Mages, visitors, students and servants were bustling around, but fortunately no one bothered her as she led Darian back to their room with promises of returning to the festivities tomorrow. _I wish I had his energy…and this being tired all the time is getting old…_

She turned the key in the lock of the door, and held Darian back as she instinctively checked the room for intruders. Finding none, she let him in, and then followed. Her son made a dash for his favorite spot—the large windows where he could see the world of Vane rush around below. Before she could shut the door, Brinson appeared. He was holding the basket from before and seemed to be in a better condition that when she had left him by the stables. 

She whispered, as she quickly shut the door, "Where's Gravitt?" _We don't need a repeat of earlier…_

"Out. I heard him leave ten minutes ago. Did you get him something to eat?" He asked, gesturing towards her son. 

At the sound of the familiar voice, Darian ran from his perch to the man, interrupting the conversation. "Brinson! Where's my surprise? I've been good!"_ _

He smiled at the boy, "You'll get it when you get into bed."

Sabre nodded to her friend in response, and turned to her son, who had begun yanking on her sleeve. When Darian had her attention, he stood upon his tiptoes, and motioned for her to lean over. She did so, and he began whispering into her ear.With a nod she laughed and pointed to the narrow door on the room's far wall."Go ahead, Darian, I showed you how the chair works."With that he scampered off to the bathroom, tugging at the rope that held his trousers snug to his waist. 

Brinson gave a wane smile as the boy left them and reached for Sabre's hand. "I'm sorry." 

"You keep saying that, and I keep telling you it's not necessary." She looked at him tenderly, seeing the sadness in his eyes magnified by his glasses. "You know how I feel about you. You know that I love you. Maybe someday we can try again, but for now, we at least have that." 

"Sabre…it's not the 'at least' part..." He paused as he took his glasses off, and then wiped his eyes. "It's everything." He hesitated for only a moment, as he replaced the spectacles. "I want…and call me greedy for this, I don't care…I just want one night with you. No Gravitt. Just us. I just want to brush your hair, and watch you dance. I…thought we might have that here—in Vane. But I guess we can't. Gravitt still controls us, no matter how laid back he's pretending to be." 

She touched a hand to his cheek. _Oh Brinson, you romantic idiot__, you wonderful romantic idiot…_ __

He whispered then (in their native language so if Darian did manage to catch some of it, he certainly wouldn't understand) and his tone grew more hateful and distraught than she had ever heard. "It's not fair, dammit! It's just not fair! I want to kill that bastard in his sleep! I want to hear him scream in agony for everything he's ever done to you!For all the pain he's caused, all the lives he's taken!Just because he has the power doesn't mean he has the right to do what he's done to us....I want him to know that just because he's bigger than us and immune to our only defense doesn't mean that he can do—do what he does to you! You're not his slave! You're not his whore! You're not any of those other horrible things he calls you! You're—" His voice cracked as he reached for her hands, "You're the woman I love, and to whom I have pledged my affections. Goddess, I want to marry you, Sabre! But even if I was allowed to, I fear I am a failure by the very canons we were raised under! I cannot even protect you, and that is the foremost duty of a Tribesman to his wife!" 

She folded her arms around his skinny waist, letting him bury his face into her shoulder. Her gloved hands rubbed his back soothingly as she whispered, "Brinson…I love you, too. You have been the only friend I've ever known, and you have protected me, and cared for me. Remember the time I told Gravitt I was pregnant and he beat me so badly I couldn't move? You carried me to my room and took care of me. And then, when Darian was born, you were right there. I was so scared. I didn't know what was happening, but you got me through it. You took up my duties for how many weeks? Even though it meant your doing the job of two, and not once did you complain or even let me repay you for it!" She lifted his chin off her shoulder and brushed the drying tears with her leathered fingers, "You've done more for me than anyone else ever has, my love. As far as I am concerned, I share my life with you, Gravitt or no Gravitt."

The noise of Darian giggling as he ran the water in the bathroom broke the moment and allowed Brinson to compose himself. She touched his face as he straightened up, but he still held onto her as the boy came back into the room. 

"Time for bed, Darian." She said as she released herself from Brinson's embrace. 

The child hustled over to the cot that was set-up for him and took his shoes off. "Ok. Then I get my surprise, right?" 

"Right," Sabre said as she put him on the bed and pulled his faded and patched pants off. _Even his shorts have holes in them…I need to buy him some new clothes…_

Darian slid his shirt over his head and handed to her. "It's hot. I just want my shorts."

She nodded as he laid down into the bed and she tugged the covers up on him. Brinson stood behind her as he reached into his shirt and produced the dog puppet. "Woof!" He said as he made the toy open its mouth. 

The child squealed in delight as he reached for the gift. "A puppy! Is he for me? Oh Brinson! Thank you!" 

"You're welcome," the man responded, a genuine smile growing on his thin lips. "What are you going to name him?" 

Darian thought for a minute. "Misha!" 

Sabre smiled as her son used one of the few words of her true language she had taught him; it was one of their secrets. Brinson gave her a soft look, "He knows what that means?" 

"I had to tell him, since we keep using it." 

Darian nodded enthusiastically as he pet his new friend. "Mommy says it's a secret." The boy looked between them, "But can I tell Brinson?" 

"I think he already—" 

Brinson cut her off, as he kneeled down, and asked in a low, overly curious voice. "What does it mean, Darian?"

Darian looked around suspiciously before giving the answer in a conspiratorial whisper. "Love." 

"Oh, but there's a secret about it, too. Do you know what that is?" 

Darian shook his head and his dark eyes widened in anticipation. 

"If you say Misha before the name of someone you care about a lot, it means 'my love'—but you only use that for very special people." 

Darian smiled as he snuggled his toy, and as the blonde man stood up, he asked: "Brinson, you gonna sing for me?" 

Sabre saw her friend's face melt and supplied the words for him, "He's not feeling well tonight, so say good night and you'll see him in the morning." 

"Good night! Misha Brinson!" 

Sabre smiled at the innocent misuse of the word, and walked her friend to the door. Poking him playfully on the chest, she repeated what her son had said, which returned the quiet smile to Brinson's lips. 

She watched with an affectionate melancholy as he walked the short distance to his own quarters.Once she was sure he was in his room, she resigned herself to the fact that she was exhausted, and lay down, but she couldn't sleep. Even though the bed was soft, and the room was warm and dark, her mind kept repeating what Brinson had just said. _'I want to marry you, Sabre…'_ Those were words she had never expected to hear, ever. Even her parents had told her she would never be able to bring them honor by marrying. It was not a happy memory, but it surfaced, and no simple shake of the head could stop it from reminding her of what she truly was… 

****** 

Sabre ran into her family's tent crying. Even at only eight years old, she had learned the hard way that she was 'different' and hated it. She hated hurting people, she hated the looks she got, and the whispers she heard whenever she was near.But most of all, right now, she hated her brother.She hadn't gone more than a few feet into the cool shadows of the large tent before she felt her mother's hand touch her shoulder and looked up at the woman. She envied her mother. She was so beautiful. She had the prettiest yellow hair, and she could touch people without hurting them. 

"What happened, Sabre?" 

"Mama, what does 'freak' mean?" 

The response was stronger and far more bitter than she had expected. "Where did you hear that, my daughter?" 

"Ashu called me that! He told me to run away because I was a freak. He said I wasn't fit to share his name!" 

Her mother looked horrified as she pulled the girl carefully, but securely into her embrace. "Why did he say these things, Sabre? What happened?" 

The words came out in a single breath. "Kuna and Ashu were playing and I wanted to play too and they wouldn't let me so I got mad at Ashu and I wanted to hit him and Kuna grabbed my arm and he fell down!"She paused, taking in a deep breath."He was awful still." 

"But he's okay, right?" 

She nodded, her eyes suddenly wide in worry over how her mother would respond to her having hurt the other child.Her voice was muted as she replied; "Yes Mama, he woke up when Ashu shook him, but Ashu screamed at me and called me a freak and told me-- " 

Her mother seemed to give a brief sigh of relief, then looked at her sternly, cutting off the rest of the harried sentence. "Ashu may make you mad, and say things he shouldn't, but you shouldn't hit him, or anyone else.And you've got to be more careful.You know that." 

Still crying, she said angrily, "He's mean!" 

"He's your brother, Sabre. He may make you angry and make you want to hit him, but someday you'll be grateful for him.Besides, I imagine you've done the same thing to him." 

Sabre ignored her mother's gentle chiding."But I just wanted to play and I hurt Kuna!" 

"I'm sure Kuna will be fine, and Kinashua will get a talking to when he gets home." 

"I guess….. but I still.."Her voice fell silent as she saw the tent's entry flap slowly pull open behind her mother's back. 

Dark eyes peeked through the dimly lit home, and Sabre stopped crying and started chanting, "You're gonna get in trouble! You're gonna get in trouble for not letting me play with you!" 

Her mother didn't even have to turn around. She just said sharply, "Kinashua, come here right this minute and sit down!" 

He did so, and Sabre noticed he looked rather sad and more than a little fearful. _Ohhh, He's gonna get a spanking!__ _

"Tell me what happened." 

They both started to speak at the same time, but their mother held a hand up to Sabre. "I've heard your version. It's his turn." 

Her brother rubbed his arms nervously. "We were playing—me and Kuna—and well, you know how Sabre can be. She just walked up and tried to take over, like she always does. I didn't want to get shocked or hurt again so I told her to leave." 

Sabre interrupted, "Kuna wanted to let me play! Kuna is nice! You should be more like him!" 

Her mother nodded to her, interrupting any response her twin could have made. "Perhaps, but he's the only brother you have and you have to take him for who he is, just as he needs to do the same for you.You are his only sister, you know." 

The words seemed to burst out from the small boy."She's a freak, Mama! She's going to kill someone one of these days!Everyone knows that!" 

Anger flashed in the woman's eyes as she stared at her son in disbelief, "Where did you hear such a thing, Kinashua?!" 

He shrunk back at her tone, but didn't respond. 

Sabre noticed a hint of desperation in her mother's voice as she grabbed the boy's arm. "Tell me!" 

He stammered, "Some of the elders of the tribe. They didn't see me but I heard them.They told Daddy he should get rid of her." He paused. "Daddy said no." 

Sabre knew her mother was fighting tears as she asked her son, "Do you honestly believe what you have just said about your sister?" 

"I…I didn't, I mean…." 

Sabre stared at her brother. She knew she was going to cry again. She could taste the tears. 

"You are also Gifted, Kinashua. Does that make you a freak as well?" 

He considered a moment, then looked at Sabre sadly, and shook his head. "I… I don't think so.Am I?" 

Ignoring his question, Mama continued; "You two are going to bring great pride to our name and to our tribe. Both of you are special in your own right, and you must embrace these Gifts you have been granted to succeed! I can't see how you can do this when you can't even be in the same camp without staring a fight, let alone if you think of your sister as less than your equal!" 

Ashu lowered his head as their mother took her knife off her belt, balancing it in her hand carefully for a moment. "Sabre, I want you to do something for me. Remember the Mage we brought you to last year? Well, he said that you might be able to heal with your gift. I want you to try doing that, all right?" 

Through some sniffles, "Yes, Mama."

Sabre watched in amazement as her mother pressed the blade's tip into her forearm and, with a firm grimace, pulled it downward, slicing deeply through her tanned skin.The blade cut quickly, leaving a slim yet bloody incision. 

She ignored the blood that began to stream down her arm."I want you to think happy thoughts, Sabre. Think about when we go riding. Think about when Ashu tickles you.About how you feel when one of us hugs you and tells you how much we love you." 

Sabre smiled, memories of happy moments coming back, and she felt her tears drying up. 

"Good girl. Now, when you are ready, touch my arm. Keep thinking those happy thoughts. Concentrate on that feeling. Hold your talent back. Now let just a little of it out, not too much, now." 

Slipping the gloves off, she did as she was told, doing her best to focus and grip the energy she felt rise within her. It was hard, and it felt funny way down deep inside her.She could feel the sweat as it began to drip down her forehead. She closed her eyes in tight meditation; trying to recall the happy rhymes and stories her mother had told her. She was going to do this right. She was going to do something good.And the tingle she felt as her fingers were pressed against her mother's arm told her she was doing it. 

She heard Ashu gasp and then her mother pulled away from her. "Sabre, open your eyes! Sabre look!" 

She did. She had done something good! The cut was gone, not even a scar remained to mark where it had been.Her voice was soft and filled with wonder: "That hurt a little bit." 

"Magic can hurt when you use it and don't know much about it. You will have to be careful and work awfully hard, but I'm very proud of you, Sabre." 

Ashu smiled at her, "I am too." His dark eyes looked off in the distance as he said, "I'm sorry, Sabre." 

"Me too, Ashu." 

She looked up at their mother. She was smiling, but that changed too quickly. Another figure appeared behind them and her mother got up in response to some unseen signal or expression. A few hushed words passed between their parents and the two adults stepped outside and walked around to the back of the tent. She could see their shadows through the heavy fabric and her mother was gesturing wildly and holding an angry tone, but she was too far away to hear what was being said. 

Ashu tapped her on the shoulder. "I hate it when they fight." 

"They are fighting about me, aren't they?" Sabre asked as she pulled her gloves back on. 

He shrugged as he traced a finger in the dirt floor. "You know I really am sorry, Sabre. I didn't mean what I said. I was scared. I didn't like seeing Kuna like that. He's my best friend." 

She nodded sadly, "I was scared I had really hurt him, Ashu. He's my friend, too." 

His voice grew playful as he hesitated for an instant, then began teasing her, "I think you _like_ him." 

She scowled at him, "No way." 

"I think you're going to _marry_ him!" 

She threw some dirt from the cleared earth near the fire at him, "Shut up, Ashu!" 

He laughed and tossed a tuft of grass back at her. "Kissy kissy! Sabre and Kuna!" 

Sabre glanced back at the two shadows outside the tent. She heard muffled crying and watched as her father tried to comfort her mother with his embrace. Moving closer to the side where they were at, she listened to what they were saying. She motioned for Ashu to join her, and he did. 

"Lycasa…of course I told them no! Sabre is our child, and just like every other child she was created out of love! She has every right to live among our people. But we have to accept that she will…just have a different life than most of us." 

Her mother was still crying as she spoke. "She could be taught—she could be taught to help people instead of hurting them." 

"Perhaps, but we don't have a trained mage around to do that. You know she can never marry or have children." 

"What if we took them to Vane? Rauchic—that mage—he said they might know what to do." 

"That is a long trip. It would have to be in the summer…but my love, I don't know if they _would_ help. Everything I've heard about that place says they don't take kindly to outsiders. They look down upon people like us." 

"Our children are famous for their Gifts! Tribes and mages from all over the Prairie come to see them! Surely someone in Vane has heard of them." 

"We can't decide this right now." 

The words turned to silence as the adults just held each other in the shade of the tent. Sabre shook her head. She wanted to cry, too. Ashu's teasing was bothersome, but that wasn't what had hurt her. She had heard her father say that she could never get married, and that was one of the many things that was expected of all of her people. It was something sacred, and something she couldn't ever have. 

Ashu looked at her gently, "Why are you sad, Sabre? I said I was sorry." 

"No, Ashu, you were right. I am not fit to share your name. Daddy said I could never get married. Just because I could heal that cut doesn't mean that I am cured. Maybe I should run away." 

"No you shouldn't, Sabre! When you were lost in the woods Mama and Daddy were so scared!" He leaned over to her and whispered, "Daddy even cried! He didn't think I saw him, but I did." 

Sabre sniffled as she shook her head, the bright hair atop it swishing tiredly, "But Ashu, I'm never going to be like everyone else. I'm never going to be normal. I'm never going to get married. I'm never going to make Mama and Daddy proud." She paused, and then sobbed, "I'm never going to live up to my name or our family's name!" 

She was surprised with she felt his arms wrap around her, but still cried into his shoulder. He pat her on the back and said gently, "Yes you will, Sabre. I know you will." He pushed her up,"I wanna show you something." 

She lifted her head and looked at him in puzzlement. "What do you want to show me?" 

He just smiled, his dark eyes calling her to trust him. "Come with me." 

Sabre wiped her face and followed him out of the tent. Ashu led her to a tall tree on the edge of their camp. It stretched high above their heads and gave off a sweet smell from the yellow flowers that speckled the boughs. 

"Daddy showed me this," the boy said as he picked something off the bark and held it to her. "He said that this is what Mama's name means." 

Sabre looked at what he had taken from the tree—it was a long, skinny bug with hairs that stuck out everywhere. "Ew, Ashu! That's gross!" 

"No, it's a special bug. It's called a caterpillar." Still holding the bit of bark he picked a leaf off one of the lower branches and turned it over for her. "See that white thing? They go into those and they sleep and when they come out they turn into butterflies." 

"Really?" She asked in wonder. 

"Really," he said with authority. "See, this is what Mama's name means—caterpillar; hidden beauty." He looked at her, a warm, genuine smile forming on his lips as she took the bug from him. "Daddy said when she was little she looked more like a boy than a girl. Now he says she is the most beautiful woman in the Stadius Zone. He said that men from a dozen other tribes tried to marry her, but she didn't want them. She wanted to marry him. He said that he is very lucky to have captured his caterpillar." 

Sabre smiled at him, showing that same charismatic smile as the bug crawled between her fingers. Ashu was so smart, and Daddy told him all the special things, probably because he was a boy. "That's so sweet."_ _

"Yeah, it is." He put his hand next to hers and let the bug crawl back onto it, then set it back on the tree. "You know, I think you're a like a caterpillar, too. I think someday you're going to grow up and be something really special." 

****** 

A noise from outside Sabre's room called her attention to the door, and she jumped off the bed to open it, praying it wasn't Gravitt looking for someone to beat on. Carefully hiding herself, she peeked out and saw three very mismatched men just down the hall. The biggest one was incredibly drunk; she could tell that by his loud and slurred words and wild gestures at the other two.The one dressed in a wizard's robe knocked on the door, while the light haired one wearing simple traveling clothes tried to support his intoxicated companion. The magician's hair was soaking wet, and he didn't look very happy. He banged on the door again. Once. Twice. Finally it opened and a blonde woman came out wearing a nightgown. There was a discussion in quiet tones, until the drunk piped up, "Jettica…I know why now! She cheated on him! That's what its about!" 

The mage looked even more annoyed, and with a cross of his fingers knocked the big man out with some kind of sleep spell. The woman stepped into the hall as the two men dragged the drunk inside, and then followed, swearing out loud at the lot of them. 

Sabre shook her head in disgust at the entire display and turned around to see that Darian was starting to stir, awakened by the idiots in the hallway. His eyes didn't open, but the small child tossed. Knowing that if he woke up he would probably not want to fall back asleep, she sat on his bed, facing him, and away from the door. A tune formed on her lips; one that had been sung across the Prairie for generations. She found the words and began:_ _

_Past far distant hills, and 'ore silent fields _

_The Goddess will sigh, sending the gift that she wields. _

_With a gift of her love, her grace and her song _

_She reminds us of hope, and our hearts grow strong. _

_ _

_Sleep my sweet dove, 'O sleep my bold hawk _

_And dream of the wind, as it sighs past the rock. _

_Dream of the love, I have for my child _

_Dream of a world, both gentle and wild. _

The boy had returned to his deep slumber before she even began the second verse, giving her a chance to just admire him. As she finished the song, a soft, yet slightly off key tenor voice behind her joined in on the last line. Startled, she jumped up off the cot and turned around, her hand instinctively reaching for her sword on her back, but it was not there. _Did I leave the door open? How careless! Dammit! I am not fit to be a mother!__ _

Backlit by the lamps from the hall, she began to size up the man standing there. The strange magical lighting outlined his form and prevented her from making out his features, but she decided even bare handed he would not be much of a match.

_A few inches shorter than Brinson, but not as skinny…he smells like ale…he might be drunk….and he wears the robe of a Vanetian. He's probably as weak as a child, but he might be able to cast a spell on me...  _

Finally, after she had stared at him for a long moment he spoke. "Your singing is lovely. I'm sorry if I frightened you. I know that song, but it has been years since I have heard it." 

"Thank you. My mother used to sing it to me," she said as she let a glove fall to the floor—just in case. 

Stepping only slightly into the room, he didn't seem all too threatening, but in the darkness, and with Darian, she was not taking any chances. "You are from the Prairie Tribes, then? I know some of the language." 

"Yes. It sounds like you know a lot of the language to sing that song." _Keep your guard up... _

"Maybe I do. I have studied many subjects." 

Sabre snorted at his arrogance. "Of course you have. Now, may I ask who you are, or if you can step back into the light so I can see for myself?" 

His tone was cocky--almost put on--and she didn't like it. "Am I scaring you?" 

"No. Nosey men don't scare me—especially ones short enough for me to smack in the face.Tell me, do you make it a habit of walking uninvited into women's bedrooms?Or did you just decide to go slumming tonight?" 

He laughed. "Touché. As fast as ever with that razor wit of yours, Sabre." 

She stopped. She had not told this man her name. Who was he? Had he been following her? Her curiosity was piqued. "How do you know who I am?" 

"It was just a guess. You know, the Prairie Tribes have always fascinated me. Would you be so kind as to indulge me in answering a few simple questions?"

"That's a new way to get a girl's attention. My son is trying to sleep. Can we take this discussion somewhere else?" She picked the glove up and pulled it back on. She could just hit him if she had to; he seemed to be more idiot than threat. 

The man stepped aside and motioned for her to lead him out the door.As she began to walk past him the light of the hall lit fully on his face and she gasped, and then gawked at him. _He looks just like…Daddy, but with short hair._ Ashu? No, it couldn't be; Ashuwould never come here. He would never dress like this man. He smiled softly at her, his hand reaching up to push his wet hair back into place as he looked back at her.Those eyes… large, dark, sad eyes…there was no mistaking him now. "Ashu?" she whispered. 

"Yes, Sabre. It's me," was the simple response. 

She jumped forward, forgetting her deadly Gift for the first time in years as she threw her arms around him. "You're ARE alive!I knew it!I could feel it!" 

As he embraced her, she ran her fingers through his wet hair, searching for something—something very important. The questions spun out of her in excitement. "Your colors? Where are they? What are you doing in Vane? Why are you dressed like this?"

He gave a sad smile as he suddenly pulled back, and she saw him frown at someone, or something, down the hallway over her shoulder. Ashu took her hand and started to lead her in the opposite direction from whatever was distracting him. "I live here. Come on; let's go to my room. We have a lot to talk about."

She glanced back through the open door at Darian's peaceful form and closed it silently. Deciding that he wouldn't notice if she was gone for a few hours, she nodded to her brother. "All right."

****** 

Although Ashu's room was just down the hall from hers, it was certainly of a higher caliber than even the special quarters she had been given. The doors to the suite itself were covered in gold leaf proclaiming the angelic symbol of the House of Ausa. She looked at him and teased, "Either you're somebody important or you're sleeping with somebody that is!" 

He glared at her, in almost a way that told he was offended, but then shook his head and smiled as he pushed the door open. Inside was a parlor, with two rooms flared off of it. The large fireplace on the far wall was already burning, and the lamps of the room were lit. Apparently Ashu had people who did things like that for him_. Maybe he is important after all._ He pointed to the door on the right. "This way."

Sabre stared in amazement at the size of the bedroom alone. It was nearly twice the size of the one she had been given, and exquisitely furnished. A huge bed—she wondered exactly how many people could sleep in it—rested against one wall with its dark curtains pulled back. The sitting area held two couches and as twice as many chairs, some of which her brother was obviously using as his closet, although a large wardrobe could be seen next to the bed, looking oddly empty.Boxes were open and spewing papers, clothes, books and other things; she didn't even notice the desk until she saw its legs peeking out under its stack of books. _He has turned into a slob._ __

Looking on the walls she saw some pieces of artwork; mostly landscapes, but the object hanging above the fireplace caught her attention. It was a weapon of superb quality--a shining metal crossbow. 

"So, what do you think? Lots of space for just me." He said as he closed the door behind them. 

"Yes. I hope you clean it sometime, though. I'm almost afraid to walk across the floor." 

"I know it's a mess, but I just moved." 

"Mess…dear Brother is an understatement." 

The mage laughed and then wrinkled his nose as he raised his sleeve and sniffed himself. "Give me a minute, Sabre. I want to change out of this—I reek of beer." 

"I noticed. I don't mind. Who cares that you were drinking? Though I think your coordination might need some work. I think the point is to get it 'inside' you?"_ _

"I do, and I wasn't drinking. That half-wit Kyle was so drunk that he poured his pitcher over my head, and thought it was hilarious! He said I wasn't celebrating enough. Like I had any thing to…" He shut his mouth with an almost audible 'snap' as he pulled the robe and then his shirt off. When he turned around, Sabre noticed some lash-like scars on his back, nothing large, but still enough to raise her suspicions. Had these people here in Vane hurt him? Did they pound and thrash their students to teach them their lessons? 

Ashu was ignoring her stares and continued talking as he took his shoes off, "Anyway, Alex and I had to drag him out of there once the brawl started, and he kept trying to run back into it. I've never known anyone who enjoys a good bar fight as much as Kyle. Anyway, his wife was not happy with any of us. Now give me a minute to wash some of this off and change clothes." He picked a clean (she hoped) shirt and a towel off the floor and disappeared behind a small door at the far end of the room. 

_The names are familiar. I've heard them before, several times, but where? Sabre thought to herself as she walked to the fireplace and stared at the weapon that had commanded her attention when she first entered the room. Examining it closely she saw it was crafted entirely out of white gold, with some sort of clear crystal accenting the metalwork. As the flames from below flickered, the crystals in the bow picked them up, causing the whole thing to glow in an eerie way. Cautiously, she reached a hand to touch it, and found even through her gloves there was some sort of magical sensation. _

He came out from the bathroom, his hair slicked back and dripping wet. As he pulled on the fresh shirt he noticed her infatuation with the crossbow. "Magnificent, isn't it?" 

"Yes. Where did you get it?" 

"I found it. I thought about giving it to Alex as a souvenir, but well, I really like the thing. Besides, he can't shoot it as well as I can." 

Sabre's brow furrowed in thought. _Yes, the names are dreadfully familiar. _She turned to him and said, "Alex and Kyle?As in the Heroes? I had heard they were here. I didn't realize you knew them so well, Ashu."

"Heh, yeah I know them all pretty well." He hesitated before finishing, the smile on his face changing. "Sometimes maybe too well." 

He was smirking in a way she couldn't read, but when he brushed his hair up, something clicked…the portraits in the taverns…they weren't exact, but…. and the songs…the songs about the Heroes…and the magicians in the group, suddenly a light went off within her head. 

He winked at her, clearly reading her statement. "I… I had to change my name when I came here, Sabre. They call me Nash, now, I guess that's all I've been known as for a long time." 

She whispered in disbelief, "Nash of Vane? The Hero?" 

He grinned, "That's me, for better or for worse. And the new Premier of the Guild, effective Saturday." 

Sabre nearly leapt into the air in excitement as she hugged him again. Her brother was not only one of the Heroes, but he had succeeding in proving his adulthood according to the customs of the tribes; he had lived up to his name. Such an event would have brought on a celebration within the Tribe, and he would have been allowed to marry. She silently prayed her parents knew this; it would bring them much joy, even from beyond death. "Oh, Ashu! I always knew you would fulfill your name! I knew it! I'm so proud! Mother and Father would be, too!" 

"I…. I don't know, Sabre. I've done a lot of things that I'm ashamed of." 

She pulled at him, trying to resist the temptation to embrace him again. "I want to hear everything! But not here, I saw some kind of garden outside from my room's window…with a pool and everything. Please, let's go there? These walls are starting to drive me insane." 

****** 

Rays from the Blue Star waltzed upon the water, giving Sabre and Ashu just enough light to relax by. Seated on a bench next to him, he kept her enthralled with his story of how he had gotten out of the tent that night by calling the storms, their downpour extinguishing the last of the fires that had consumed the tents and legacy of their tribe.Then, in a soft voice, he spoke of how he had followed their mother's map to Vane. He told her of his studies at the Guild, how he came to apprentice under the last Premier, his adventure and his latest appointment. He included the bad times—those which were left out of the songs and stories she had heard—the times when he'd let himself fall under the dark master's sway and let his selfishness and weakness rule his life.It was clear that he was not proud of those times, but she knew that he had learned from them. She smiled as he bragged about his years here at the Guild and his adventure; he had certainly earned the right to. Finally, after an hour of speaking of himself, he turned to her as he blushed, "Sorry, I tend to ramble." 

"No, it's a wonderful story.She smiled as she gave him a gentle nudge; "And it's nice to see that some things haven't changed."She paused for a moment, though not enough for him to respond in." Just one question, no one here knows who you really are? The Storm Child of the Prairie?"

"No, I couldn't even keep my name, I'd have been kicked out at best if they'd known who I really was.But that is changing Sabre. They, we… aren't going to be the self-righteous, elitist city Vane used to be. We're going to welcome everyone, I've already seen it start, and with Mia leading us, it will certainly continue."

She noticed he spoke the name 'Mia' with a bit of plaintive reverence, and chose not to ask about it. "But then why don't you just tell them. It could be inspiring." 

"I plan to, and soon.But please, Sabre, don't say anything to anyone about it until I do. I want it come from me, and some people need to be told before others."

"I won't, I promise." Gravitt again entered her mind and she added, "But maybe you shouldn't say anything until after the Festival, though. There are many people who have come to it that would take advantage of… me to use you, to exploit you because of this—some people who might even harm to you and your city, or even to the Guildmaster. Vane might understand, but some of its visitors…well…you just can't be sure of anyone's motives these days." _Please Ashu…not with Gravitt here…he'll use you as tool in whatever sick plans he has for this place…__ _

He coughed, clearly uncomfortable with her observation and diverted the conversation to a different avenue, "So you have a son…you are married then? To that blonde man I you nearly ran over with your horse this morning?" 

She said sadly, "No, Brinson is just my friend. He is not my son's father." 

Her twin clearly sensed her distress, "I'm sorry if I'm touched on an uncomfortable subject—from what the two of you said to each other earlier today I just thought…" 

Sabre shivered, and prayed he didn't see it. The thought of being committed beyond life to Gravitt made her ill, or worse, but she couldn't tell him the truth. She realized she didn't have any other choice; there simply wasn't time to be creative.As distasteful as it was she had to use the cover story Gravitt had given her, even though it meant that she would have to lie to her own brother. "Was married. My husband is dead." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be, it was more of a business arraignment than a marriage.Hell, it didn't even last long enough to be called either. You don't need to feel sorry, there was little love lost when he decided he'd rather be dead than married to me." 

There was a profound sorrow in Ashu's dark eyes as he said, "You mean you married him but you didn't even love him?" 

Sabre hesitated, the words tasting foul in her mouth."Oh, perhaps on some level I did. I don't think he cared for me much. Adventuring was his first love; horses were his second, so at best I was a distant third. I knew that from the beginning."

"That's horrible, Sabre. I just can't imagine—" 

She cut him off with cold shrug, refusing the reassuring hand he'd tried to put on her shoulder. "When you're like me, Brother, you take what you can get." A pause and then with a smile she said, "What about you?I'm sure you've have plenty of choices as to who holds your affections."She laughed briefly; "Maybe even some competition? Or does it change from week to week? Surely that gigantic bed was meant for more than one person!"

He said acrimoniously, "There was girl, once. One that I wanted to marry—but not any more." 

"What happened?" 

He considered a moment before he said simply, "I lost her.My own damn fault."

She heard the finality in his voice and decided not to probe further, at least not at the moment. "I'm sorry." 

Ashu quickly changed the subject. "How old were you when you married?" 

"Barely sixteen. Too young." 

"Sixteen…I had just earned my apprenticeship.Sabre, I wish I had been there." 

"Yeah, me too," she said, almost pitifully. 

Ashu looked away from her. "I wonder, Sister, and I know I am being too nosy, but how… how is it possible that you have a child?I mean, well…you know." 

She smiled at him, hoping he wouldn't see how forced it was: "No, you are not being nosy. My…husband was immune to magic—all kinds, direct and indirect. His…. Brother…" her voice grew cold at the statement, "is the man I traveled here with…Gravitt of Briggatt. He is the same way…immune, I mean." 

"Fascinating." 

"What is 'fascinating?'" 

"Their family's inherited immunity to magic, and the ability to repel its effects. I've never heard of that before. It would make an interesting study." 

"I guess." 

Ashu seemed intrigued, "Your son, does he have his father's ability?" 

"No, I believe he has inherited mine, but it's still too soon to tell." 

"How old is he?" 

"He'll be four in July," she said, and then added despondently, "I am so afraid for him, the first signs are there… I've already started to cover his hands." 

Ashu shook his head returning his hand to her shoulder, "Sabre, I promise I'll do whatever I can for him and you. We have resources here—volumes of knowledge and mages that know everything there is to know about magic, centuries of learning and knowledge." He took her hand, "After all these years…it's the least I can do. I believe that I owe you my life, Sister." 

She shook her head, rejecting his last statement."When I realized it was really you, I knew you would want to help. And you owe me nothing, but thank you, Brother." 

He gave her a wide smile, "What did you name him?" 

"Darian." 

"It's a pretty name." 

"I wanted to name him after Father, or you, but…my husband didn't like it. He didn't want a Tribal name for his child." She glanced away from him. "He's… was… funny about that." 

Ashu looked like he didn't really know how to respond to her comment, but he grinned at her and said, "I can't wait to meet him! I can't believe I have a nephew!" 

"I'm sure he'll adore you." She grinned back, a mirror image of the one he gave her, "He's got the curse, you know." 

He stood up and stretched, walking a few steps from where she sat to check his appearance in the reflection of the water. "He has? Poor kid, I guess Mother wasn't wrong about that." 

"No, she wasn't. When you came up behind me in the hallway, I thought I had seen Daddy's ghost." 

Turning back to her he smirked, "It's the curse—although not a bad one, I mean we're just a whole family of extraordinarily handsome men." 

A playfulness Sabre thought she had long forgotten suddenly filled her as she jumped up and threw all her weight against him, pushing him into the pool. She laughed hysterically as he tried to catch his balance by flapping his arms, and then finally surrendered to gravity by crashing into the water face first. A moment later he resurfaced, and she shouted, "Yes, but the real curse is that they all know it!" 

He swam to the edge and held a hand up to her. "Help me out. These clothes weigh a ton." 

Standing over him, she crossed her arms over her chest, "I'm not falling for that one, Ashu.I still remember that trick you pulled on me when we were six."

The pool was shallower than she had thought, because in a second Ashu was standing at his full height and the water only at his waist. He smirked, made some sort of gesture at her and then next thing she knew she was floating a few inches above the ground and being pulled towards him. He snapped his fingers to break the spell and she hit the water, landing hard on her backside. She pushed her way to the surface and scowled at him, shaking the water from her hair and trying to keep it from gluing her shirt to her body. "You're not playing fair!"

He laughed, and splashed some more water on her. "Of course not!I'm your brother, I'm allowed to cheat now and then. Come on, let's get inside. We'll both catch our death of cold staying out here all wet." 

****** 

Dressed in one of Ashu's old tunics (which was more of a dress on her) and sipping some very welcomed hot tea, Sabre found herself more relaxed and content than she had been in years. Sitting in front of the fire in his room it seemed almost natural; in her mind she pretended for a moment that they were on the Prairie again, talking in front of a campfire. In the third outfit she had seen him in this evening, Ashu still looked different to her, though. He seemed too regal to be the little boy who would throw bugs at her and scare her horse with his thunder when their parents weren't looking.

As her brother sat down next to her, now dressed in old baggy pants and a shirt (she guessed they were what he usually slept in), he said, "You know…when we were out on the Prairie looking for the Black Dragon cave, I asked around about you." 

She smiled over her tea. "I don't live there anymore, I haven't for a while now." 

"I guess not, but still, I figured around Tamur someone might have heard something, or known what had become of the Setin." 

"They are still around." 

"I figured that. What did they want with you?" 

She gave him a harsh look, "What do you think they wanted?" 

"Sabre, I'm sorry. I just…never mind. How did you get away from them?" 

She gritted her teeth. She was not going to tell Ashu about being a slave. He'd want to interfere, or try something noble--something that could get him killed. So again, she lied to him. "I ran away one night." 

Ashu nodded as he stirred his cup and shifted the conversation slightly. "I made friends with some people from Pao on that trip." 

Sabre responded flatly, "Yeah, they are still around. No one really bothers them. Many of the other Tribes have died out, though. People have been hunting them down." _People like Gravitt…_

"This…this discussion saddens you, Sabre. Why is that? Do you want to go back? To the Prairie?" 

"I don't know what I want, Brother. I've found you now and I should be happy, but neither of us are the people we were." 

"We were kids, Sabre. People change as they get older." 

She could tell by his tone that he was dodging her statement. "Perhaps, but not so much in eleven years that sometimes, like right now, I feel I don't know you." 

"We've both been through a lot. Do you know what it took to get to Vane? To leave the Prairie? I was the only one left, Sabre. I checked—everyone was dead! They killed even the youngest babies." 

"I know and I'm not faulting you," she said as she placed the cup on the table in front of the couch. 

He looked at her, "I still wish you had stayed. Then we could have come here together." 

"Vane is a nice city, and I'm sure you love it since it's your home, but I would have been miserable. You know that. And if it had gone other way--if you had been caught too--who knows what would have happened to us? At the very least we would have been prisoners of the Setin." 

He said gently, "Well you would have gotten in a lot of trouble if you had run off like you used to do.You used to scare Mom and Dad when you did that, something awful." 

"I don't do that anymore." _I want to…but…_

A long silence held, finally she said with a grin, "Ashu, I have a confession to make." 

"Oh?" 

"My friend Brinson won a mare from a very drunk Vanetian back in December. The owner told him that she was a gift from the Guildmaster. I have to tell you this because Brinson gave me that horse, and when we got here he realized that you were the man he beat at cards! So, now in knowing that she was yours, I want… I need to give her back to you." 

He shook his head, "Mia bought me that horse without knowing how high strung she was—she never was a very good judge of horseflesh.He laughed as he continued; "She still can't tell the difference between a stallion and a mare. Anyway, I never really could ride her, not like she deserved to be ridden, and I lost the bet. She's yours, Sister." He smirked, "Besides, I'm sure you ride her better than I do. You always did." 

She leaned back on him and looked up, "Yeah, but you could make me fly." 

"Maybe we can do that again." 

"I'd love to." She turned to face him, "What was her name? The horse, I mean." 

"She didn't have one. Vane's never gotten into the habit of naming horses, I guess I just sort of got used to that." 

Sabre gasped, "Ashu! That is bad luck! You should know you never ride a horse without a name!" 

He shrugged, "I've grown up with different superstitions, here." 

She scowled. "I wouldn't take it so lightly. You lost that horse. What else bad happened to you? You said you lost the girl you loved. Did she die?" 

"Stop it Sabre! No, she's not dead! She's just…never mind! Just stop it!" 

"See, it all comes back to the horse. Watch yourself Brother, you know it takes seven years to break a curse." 

Angry brown eyes met shocked blue as he spat, "Sabre, I don't believe in that crap anymore! I don't believe that by braiding my hair I will bring pride to my family! I don't believe that in dancing a certain way we will have a good hunt! I don't believe that you need to strive to become the ideal of your namesake, or that that doing so makes any difference in who you are! And I certainly don't believe that by riding a horse without a name your luck will be terrible!" 

She felt her face go white as she asked him, "Then what do you believe in?" 

"I believe in hard work. I believe in the greater good, whatever the hell that may be, and I know that someday we can achieve peace throughout Lunar, and that it will start right here in Vane where everyone is welcome to study magic!" 

"Those are values, Brother, new ones, but not beliefs. I guess you lost the ones our parents gave you, then, when you found your new home… and forgot the ones you were born to." 

"No I didn't. If I had, would I have told you who I was? You would have never figured it out otherwise.You looked right at me, Sabre. You looked right at me and rode away." 

She brushed her hair back; the ends of it still wet from the impromptu swim. Guilt filled her and she said quietly, "Ashu, I'm sorry. We shouldn't fight." 

He touched her shoulder, regret in his eyes and voice. "No, we shouldn't Sabre. I'm sorry too." He sighed, "It's late. I'm tired and you're tired. And even if you're not, I'm more than a little confused right now.How about we pull the blankets off the bed and sleep on the balcony outside? I must confess that the walls get to me sometimes, too." 

She smiled at him. "I'd love that." 


	13. Chapter Twelve

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation** _

** Chapter 12**

_"The cruelest lies are often told in silence."—Robert Louis Stevenson_

Mia pulled at her dress as she stood in front of the large mirror that reflected most of her room. It certainly wasn't one of her normal garments these days; it was far less fancy, almost plain, and maybe just a bit too tight in some places. _Hopefully in the right places… The lavender uniform had been well stored; even the blue embroidery on the cuffs of the sleeves and the hem had been carefully preserved. She adjusted the white shoulder scarf, and smiled as she admired herself in the glass. The dress didn't give her much of a figure, but it was the outfit that had kept Nash's attention all those years ago. He had told her once that it was one of his favorite things to see her in; why this was he wouldn't say, but perhaps he wondered just what lurked under the simple and unflattering dress. _

Finally content with her ensemble, she stared at herself in the mirror once more, and said a silent prayer that this time, he'd listen and accept the apology. Oh, it wasn't like she hadn't tried before! The first attempt had come that morning after, and many times since then, but every time she would go to him and beg for forgiveness, in place of the man she loved, all she would find was the statue that lived and breathed as Nash. _I know it's my fault that he is the way he is…or at least a part of it…_

She started for the door, but something made her stop. There was one more thing she had to wear—just in case. As she walked to her vanity, and opened the jewelry box atop of it, Mia mentally debated this particular item, but knew she really had no choice in the event that they did make up—particularly in the way that Jessica had suggested. 

The small charm sat well on her neck, but no matter how hard she tried it would not hide itself under the neckline of the dress. Nash might not appreciate the jewelry; it was one of those little things in their former relationship that he would constantly gripe about. At first he understood the necessity for it—neither of them were ready for the consequences of her _not_ wearing it. But, as time went on, he grew more resentful every time he looked at it. Was he not good enough? Or was her place as sacred Guildmaster more important to her then he was, or a family? The questions were as sour in her mind now as they were when he had first asked them. Sighing, she touched a hand to it; many nights had passed since she last wore the tiny trinket, but the memories that went with it still stayed…one memory in particular. 

****** 

Mia wasn't sure what time it was when she finally awoke that morning. Everything seemed so dark and still; even the violet bed curtains hung somberly around her. She sat up and realized her head hurt. It was a dull, aching pain that extended into her limbs, and caused her stomach to feel queasy. Whatever had happened the night before was a dim blur at the moment, but a twinkling of her dream--a dream so real and so long desired-- tickled her and made her smile for a moment. Then a motion on the other side of the drapes made her hold her breath for an instant and she realized that at least some of it had been more than just a mirage. 

The night before, she had wanted to be alone, so much in fact that she had dismissed all of her guards, even the ones that vehemently protested. She was so lonely, but yet at the same time, wanted to be alone. She knew this feeling would continue at least another three days until Nash returned, and decided to try this new approach in combating it. 

Word must have gotten around that she was upset, because shortly thereafter a soft knock came to her door. A moment passed without reaction, but then she remembered that she'd sent the guards away, and, throwing a cape over her nightgown, went to the door herself, and opened it slightly. Standing there with a bright smile was Orinth, who explained that he had heard from the sentries of her request for solitude and dropped by to check on her and to try and raise her spirits. 

For some reason, she welcomed this interruption of her isolation, let him in and told him of her decision to ask Nash to marry her. After a moment's surprise, he had been happy for her, and had even called out to one of the apprentices walking down the hall to run to his family's home (one of the few formal residences in the city) and fetch a bottle of wine. She had told him that wasn't necessary, but he had insisted they celebrate her soon-to-be engagement in proper style. 

The wine was sweet and unexpectedly potent; Orinth had said it was a special vintage, but that this was a special occasion that demanded only the best. She started to feel giggly, just like she had that night she and Jessica drank together, and the same fuzzy shine quickly spread through her. The room had become warm then; too warm, and she led him out onto the balcony. The cold December air was chilly, but the glow of the alcohol kept them both cozy, and his banter, jokes, and memories of their childhood together soon distracted Mia, perhaps a bit too much. 

They reminisced and laughed at each other as they shared stories of their youth, the tricks they'd played on their friends, the guards, the teachers, and on each other. Then Orinth made a request that surprised her. He wanted to kiss her, and said that he'd always wanted to, and now if she was going to be getting married he would never have another chance. She smiled, but graciously declined. He begged her, telling her of how he wished he had been the one that she desired, and how their mothers had wanted the two of them to grow up and find happiness in each other. He had sighed and added how he understood her feelings for Nash, and said that had their roles been reversed, he would not be mad if she had just given her friend one little kiss. How could she refuse such a heart-felt appeal? 

Mia felt a shy grin cross her lips and she nodded to him. One kiss wouldn't hurt anything. It couldn't hurt anything, and Nash would never know. _It will be our secret_, she thought as a wicked thrill ran up her back, and her friend gave her just one soft, gentle kiss. 

And that's when the dream started to feel real. 

Somehow, Orinth had left the room without her realizing it, and Nash had arrived home early. He crept up behind her and found her standing on the balcony; that same balcony she swore she had sensed him from only a few nights ago. She had smiled seeing how well dressed he was—he must have cleaned up before coming to see her. He had taken her into his arms, held onto her tenderly, but with an unexpected determination that said he wasn't going to let her go. She whispered her proposal into his ear, sprinkling the words with kisses on his neck. He stepped back just enough to admire her, and to smile as his face beamed in ecstatic shock. He didn't need to say anything. She knew the answer. An ardent kiss, then another, a guiding arm into the bedroom, and the next thing she knew they were making love. It was all too perfect, too simple… There were no words spoken, yet his "yes' seemed to echo within her ears… Did she actually hear him say that? Did she feel it? Somehow, she didn't care, and knew it didn't matter. 

Her hand gripped the soft velvet, ready to push it back and gaze affectionately at her soon to be husband. Oh, that word sounded so wonderful now! How could she have been afraid of it for so long? 

She pulled the curtains aside and looked over to the shape they had hidden. With sudden and terrifying shock, she realized it wasn't Nash standing there, but Orinth, straightening his robe in her mirror. What had happened? Where was Nash? Her old friend just looked up at her reflection behind him and shook his head, as though disappointed somehow. It was only then that she noticed the shattered glass of her skylight lying in the center of the room, the shards piercing the carpet in a strange, serrated pattern. 

Confusion slapped her back into reality and she asked, "What happened?" 

His expression was deadpan, and he didn't bother to turn around as he gave the succinct response, "We had a storm last night." 

"A storm?" 

He still hadn't faced her and was still delivering the words through his mirror image. "Yes. And I don't thinking it was a natural one, either. I looked from the balcony and some of the buildings seem to be quite damaged." 

Nothing was right, her entire world seemed to tilt on its side and she had a terrible feeling she had done something she would regret, but the details were so unclear and her head hurt so much. She sat on one of the chairs in the room and called to her friend. "Orinth?" 

He _still _wouldn't turn to face her. "Yes, Majesty?" 

She pushed the words out, dreading the response. "Did we…I mean…" Her expression firmed. "You know what I mean…" 

This time he spun and glared at her. "You have to ask? I find it rather insulting that you would sleep through that as well." 

She stared at him. Surely she hadn't…they hadn't. They couldn't have! But what if they had? What did this make her? What would happen to the perfect picture she had painted for her and Nash? More from instinct than intoxication, her stomach twisted and she wanted to vomit. 

He gave a quick bow as she sat there, her lips pursed in self-disgust. With a few strides he made it to the door and stepped out, leaving her with only one sentence: "I will bid you good day, Majesty, and I'll thank you to _never call me by that jackass's name again." _

Those few words confirmed it up for her. Her breath shriveled inside of her chest, as the tears started streaking down her cheeks. Suddenly her queasiness turned to heaves; a trembling hand slammed over her mouth, she dashed into the bathroom, and threw up into the polished sink. The stench from the vomit reminded her again of the wine, the night before, and everything else she had tried to purge. Sweat dripped off her forehead as she brushed her bangs out of her face and looked in the mirror. The woman in the glass repulsed her beyond words. How could she have let this happen!? She would lose Nash now, and she knew it! He had warned her many times about Orinth, and had scolded her when she got drunk. And now, his...her…their…biggest nightmare had come true. _Maybe he won't find out…I'll make sure he doesn't find out…_

Desperate to remove the atrocious feeling of infidelity and to clean away the stain she knew covered her, she turned on the shower and jumped in, nightgown and all. She sat on the tiles, tucking her knees to her chin like a child and letting the water wash away the tears and that horrible realization that she had just committed the most unspeakable kind of treachery against the man that she loved. 

Suddenly anger filled her. How had it happened? How could she have lost control so badly? Orinth hadn't cast a spell on her, she knew that, would have felt that, right? But why would she be so willing otherwise? Orinth knew her feelings for Nash. He had taken advantage of them, _of her_, and he had given her the wine to impair her judgment. Her black curls were weighted down by the water and clung to her neck and back as understanding hit her harder than Ghaleon's spells ever could. He hadn't tricked her. He hadn't cast a spell on her. He hadn't drugged her. She had just believed what she wanted to believe, hadn't she? How could she have been so stupid? 

The nightgown stuck to her like guilt as she reached and turned the shower off. Her stomach churned as her tiny hand gripped the cold tiles for some kind of slippery support as she rose. After taking several deep breaths she shed the sodden nightgown and, she prayed, her memories of this night. 

A plan was already forming in her head. It would be simple, but she would have to act quickly. She would talk with Orinth first. As a friend, (though she was having serious doubts about that now) she would ask him to keep this private. If that didn't work, she would order him to keep his silence as a member of the Guild. _A slight abuse of my power…but right now I don't care. I can't let him talk…brag, about this…There were no guards, so they did not have to be dealt with…but the apprentice who brought the wine? No, he would not know what had happened so he wouldn't be an issue. She touched a hand to her neck and with a sigh of relief found the most important piece to the puzzle still hanging there. __At least I can't be pregnant, thank the Goddess…_

Mia dressed herself quickly, choosing a comfortable, but appealing bright green robe from her closet. As she pulled it on, an eerie feeling passed through her. The walls seemed to gawk as if they were reviling and judging her. She tried to put it out of her mind, and sat on the large winged chair in the room to collect her thoughts. It didn't help. The broken skylight glared, the fireplace roared, the windows sang, and the furniture just stared at her in a way that made her more than agitated. The room knew, and everyone would know, soon enough. _Walls may have ears, but I think these have eyes as well…_

Mia fixed her hair without using the mirror, for she was still nauseated by her own reflection. With a newfound determination and urgency to settle the entire matter, she took a deep breath and decided to head for the Library. 

The Library of Vane—to Mia, it was the single most important part of the city. Even as a child, she hid from the world in the books and maps of the place, learning and dreaming of lands far away. It had always been one of the few places she felt she could meditate, concentrate, and reflect--and right now that was what she needed to do more than anything. She wanted to make sure all of her bases were covered, but more importantly, she wanted to contemplate exactly what to say to Orinth, and if anything, to Nash. 

It must have been fate, karma, or some other strange force, but the second she opened one of the doors to the place which was the pride of Vane, she saw the one person she certainly didn't expect, nor was prepared to deal with. 

Standing at one of the stacks with his back to her, was none other than Nash. She knew he heard the door close; his head lifted up at the sound, but he didn't even turn around to acknowledge the entrant. Her eyes walked over him; he looked horrible. His robe was dirty and torn and his hair was matted and crusted with mud. She wondered just how long he'd been home. Surely if it had been last night he would have at least cleaned himself up before going out in public! But something nagged at her. Why hadn't he come by yet? Did he just get in? Even then, he should have come right to her room. 

_Did he know? Dread echoed inside of her, but she wouldn't let it have the satisfaction of resound. Lifting her chin, she quickly walked up to him, threw her arms around his waist from behind, and said so cheerfully she surprised herself, "You're back! Oh thank Althena you're back! And three days early!" _

He stood perfectly still as she embraced him. She felt his muscles tighten, but he did not return her affections, nor did he turn around. He stepped away from her and with a voice full of ice said, "I have just put your books away, Majesty. They came at a higher price than I think you intended." 

She stared at him. He had never been so formal with her before, and his appearance was ghastly. Pushing her way around to face him, she saw he hadn't shaved in at least three days, and his eyes were distant, as if transfixed on some far off tome. She flinched at the sight of him, a dead hollowness growing in her heart as fears began dancing in her soul. Then, for the first time since she had known him, she read him, reaching out with her magic to see if she could learn what his Gift had endured. Had he been in combat? Wounded? She touched his aura, and felt… nothing, as though every bit of power within him had been drained, and recently. Orinth's dry voice speaking of the storm the night before itched in her mind. _Oh Goddess, please no… _

His expression remained neutral, and he stood perfectly still as she sensed him, but his tone implied he was annoyed by the intrusion. "What are you looking for, Majesty? I caused that storm last night. I will save you the trouble of investigating the matter, and plan to do what I can to make restitution." He paused and then added: "I admit this because I realize that I was gone for quite awhile and that you might have forgotten what my storms feel like." 

The horror that he might just know what had happened throttled her as he distanced himself another few paces. "Nash..." 

He bowed, "Always your Majesty's humble servant." 

"I...did…did someone say something to you, about… about me?" 

"I have heard nothing, and I have only spoken with Gregory since leaving the Prairie." 

_Then why are you… so...negative... She tried a more direct approach. "You seem upset and distant, Nash..." _

The wall he had built around himself didn't even crack. "I am not distant, nor am I upset. Just a little tired, I guess. We rode for four straight days to get back. I was tired of the Prairie." 

_Thank you, Althena! Thank you! I just almost lost him...I couldn't bear to do that...I know I don't deserve him...but I need him.... "Why don't we go to my room and talk about your trip? I'm sure you've plenty of stories to tell!" She reached for his hand, and gave a small inviting smile. _

He pulled his arm away from her, and as he spoke, the storms flashed in his eyes. "I'd prefer to get some sleep, rather than… serve as your Majesty's entertainment tonight, if you don't mind. Perhaps you should consider doing the same—getting rest that is. I gather you were quite busy while I was gone. " 

She studied him for a moment. The mind enrapturing stares he used to give her at all times were gone; those looks she had taken for granted for so long were now replaced by a barricade, a cloud of some sort of distrust, hate…even rage. _He knows._

In an unexpected move, he reached towards her, and her eyes followed his hand as it grasped the charm around her neck. He turned it over, his dark eyes holding a profound and reminiscent sadness, and then finally with a slight shake of his head, he let it go. His eyes met hers then, but they were sullen and his voice detached as he spoke; the words almost as painful as the tone in which he delivered them. "What truly brought you here, Majesty? Did you need something to read? Or were you just feeling lonely? It is obvious that your sheets are not warm enough on these cold nights. Is that true? Were you only looking for a friend to keep you…engaged? May I suggest you look for one in the tavern in Dunart? Those men normally don't have fancy names, and usually don't bother asking for yours. But, at least they don't come with as much embarrassment as those who are members of the Guild." 

Regardless of what she had done, his statement, and the implications of it, infuriated her. Her instinct was to slap him across the face; she felt her hand go up as her lips pursed themselves in anger and spat at him, "How dare you….!" 

She didn't expect him to be ready for it. A mere nanosecond before her palm was to smack his cheek; he grabbed her wrist firmly and pulled it away from him. As he held her limb captive, he said quietly, "Not this time, Mia. Not this time." 

Mia pulled her hand free from his grip and shook her head; he did know… somehow, he knew everything. "I know I have betrayed you in the worst way possible, but I swear Nash, I swear it wasn't my fault!" 

His face showed concern for moment, concern and bottled rage, "So you are saying it wasn't consensual?" 

She hadn't considered that point. "I…" 

He put a tender hand on her shoulder, and asked with a hint of hope in his voice, "Say the word and I will kill him myself." 

She couldn't lie. "No, Nash." A hand went to her face and she started to cry. Normally such a display would cause him to embrace her, to whisper to her and tell her everything would be all right…but not this time. In a soft voice under her tears she said, "I'm sorry. Goddess, I'm so sorry. I know that sounds trite…but I don't know what else to say." 

Nash ignored her distress and said flatly, "Well I hope you're happy and that it was all you expected it to be, because now that I've only become another disposable commodity to you--" 

She glared at him, her eyes still pouring, as she interrupted and justified the ordeal more to herself than to him, "I certainly don't consider you that! I…was drunk! That's why I don't remember much about it! I know there was a conversation, but I can't recall…" 

"Somehow, I don't think there was much conversation. And what you were doing entertaining that…that…bastard in your bedroom is beyond my ability to fathom." 

She looked up at him, her eyes begging now, "He was my friend, Nash! I was…just talking to him." 

His response was drenched in sarcasm, "Talking usually doesn't require the use of one's bed." 

She started to reply hotly but reconsidered. Defeated, she leaned against the bookcase. "You're right, of course. But Nash—" 

He was still glaring at her, as if questioning her audacity in coming here with his very eyes. "But what?" 

"I do remember something." 

"I'm not really interested in listening to this, Mia. I have things to do—things you have asked me to do. May I go change now and see to them?" 

"Nash…" 

He stepped away, turning his back on her, but she let the sentence out anyway. "I thought…I know…I thought he was you." 

The few words she had spoken spun him on his heel. "Please don't treat me like a complete idiot, Mia! Even a blind man could _never_ mistake that six-foot tall snake for me! It's not like we even look alike." He crossed his arms over his chest and added: "And if that's the case I want to know what you were drinking because I could use some right about now." 

Mia knew he wouldn't believe her. She didn't even know why she had said it. But, as far-fetched as it sounded, it was the truth. "I wish you would just trust me, Nash." 

They stared at each other for a moment; a single moment, a single lapse in judgment was all it had taken, and now Mia felt as if Vane was crashing down from the sky again. She watched through drenched eyes as Nash just shook his head at her despondently. 

He backed away, one step at a time, but even then short distance to him was as far from her reach as the Blue Star. With an exhausted sigh, he left her with just one statement, and a simple, yet heartbreaking farewell. His voice cracked and a few tears slipped down his cheeks, washing away the dirt that was there. "Indeed, Majesty, and I wish I could again, but you know what? I learned something from all of this! I can't stand up when I'm always kneeling at your throne! Goodbye, Mia." 

She called out to him, her voice straining to pull him back to her; but this time, he just walked away. Still crying, she watched as he stormed out of the Library. She did not run for him; she couldn't. Goodbye said it all. 

****** 

Mia released the charm from her hand, and reached for one of gardenias arranged in a vase on her dresser. She picked off one of the fragrant white petals and dragged it across her wrists and neck, knowing how much Nash loved the scent. Steeling herself once again, she lifted the garment she was to deliver to him off the bed, and silently left the room. 

Nash's rooms were not too far from her own, and the distractions in the halls at this hour of the morning were minimal. The few members of the Guild that she passed raised their eyebrows at her choice in attire, but she ignored them and soon found herself standing at the door to his suite. 

Strangely, his guards had left their posts, so she pushed the door to his parlor open and looked around. It was quiet, but she could see light coming from under the bedroom door, so she guessed he was awake. Glancing at the elegant robe she carried with her, she touched a gentle hand to straighten the large ceremonial stole draped across the front. She stared at the door for a moment and then knocked swiftly, waiting (or even perhaps dreading) the response from within. 

A moment later the door swung open, and the Guildmaster felt her mouth drop. Standing there before her was certainly not whom she was expecting and most certainly not anyone she thought would have ever been in that room at such an early hour. 

A woman, a good inch shorter than she, with bright red-orange hair held the door by the knob as she called towards the back of the room, "You've got company!" Mia felt the stranger's eyes waltz over her, and the woman directed her next sentence to her, "Don't just stand there gawking at me. Anybody ever tell you that's rude? Come in!" 

Mia found herself following the order of the bizarre woman, and she noticed that the shirt she was wearing was a few sizes too big, and rather familiar. "Umm...sorry. I'm looking for Nash." 

The woman grinned, "Apparently. He's taking a shower. I can haul him out for you if you want."

"That won't be necessary!" 

"All right then. You going to wait for him?" 

"Yes. I need to give him this robe." 

"I can do it, if you want." 

"No offense, but this is very important, and I need to do it myself." _That's one of his shirts..._

"Suit yourself. Why don't you have a seat—clear a spot if you can't find one." 

Mia gazed at the state of the room. Nash still hadn't unpacked much of his things, and what he had was thrown around without much of a care. _At least some things don't change…_She picked her way around the clothing on the floor and made it to the amazingly clean couch. Taking a seat, she looked over at the enormous bed against the far wall. The sheets and blankets were in terrible disarray, which caused her to just glare at the woman for a moment as she felt a rush of color dash across her face, and a burning anger rise from within her. 

The redhead pulled a pair of pants off the mantle and put them on, apparently not even caring about her audience. _I guess Nash finally found another...distraction? She doesn't really seem like his type...she's pretty, I guess...but a little...too.... too...brash? _Jealous or not, she was going to be civil. Feigning a smile at the woman she asked, "You wear the colors of one of the Prairie Tribes in your hair? Is that where you are from?" 

The girl produced from a pile of laundry on the floor and fastened it around her skinny middle. "Born and raised. You wear the robe of a Vanetian, so I assume you live here?" The stranger seemed to leer at her, as if she was laughing at the entire situation. 

"Yes. All my life." 

"How sad for you. Cities have got to be my least favorite type of place." The woman walked back over to the sitting area and chose the chair closest to Mia, staring at her in a way that made her beyond uncomfortable. "So I guess you are a student then?" 

Mia grinned, "Not quite." 

The Tribal asked dubiously, "Then why are you dressed like that? I thought that was the uniform for students." 

"It is…but..." 

The woman smirked, as her eyes scanned the floor for something. "So you're an _apprentice_. Oh well I guess he could do worse." 

Mia's mouth just hung open. "Excuse me?" 

With a raised an eyebrow the Tribal changed the subject. "That's an interesting necklace you wear. What is it made of?" 

"I'm not sure of the material, but it's a charm." 

"What kind of charm?" 

Color splashed Mia's face as she covered the object of the woman's interest. "It keeps me from having children." 

The woman laughed, "Ah. Isn't it a little early in the day to go looking for a date?" Then after a pause she added with a smile, "I could have used one of those a few years back, although I wouldn't trade my son for the world." 

Mia was annoyed, but still she felt she needed to be polite, so rather than entertain the woman's observation, she made small talk. "You have a son? How old is he?" 

"He's almost four. His name is Darian." 

"That's a pretty name. Did you bring him here to study magic?" 

"Ah...no." Her expression darkened for a moment before she continued. "My… brother in law—Gravitt—was invited to that party they're having here, and brought me along." 

Mia noticed she spoke the last sentence with a bit of contempt. "Gravitt? He was one of our biggest benefactors." 

The response was more sarcastic than Mia had anticipated: "Oh yeah, he's a treasure, let me tell you. But at least I get to travel with him. I can't tell you how much _fun_ that can be." 

"Really? Where have you been?" _Is it possible that Nash knows you from his travels? Or were you just his comfort for the night?_

Semi-ignoring her, the Tribal got up, stepped behind the couch and started crawling around on her knees, as if looking for something as she spoke, "All over—except Caldor Isle. I want to go there sometime." 

Mia leaned over the back of the sofa and continued the conversation: "I've been there. It's nice, but it's certainly very rustic." 

The redhead looked up at her, the expression full of incredulity, "You travel? You can't be older than fifteen, not to mention you seem too prissy to get your hands dirty with the reins." 

Mia smiled at the woman, "Actually, I'll be twenty in a few weeks. And you're correct; I don't ride, or at least well enough to call it riding. Nash is very good at it though." 

The woman snorted, as she stood up. "He better be. Dammit. I can't find my shoes!" 

Mia feigned another perfect smile. "Perhaps they are with your shirt?" 

"I don't know where that is, either. Must be under the mess or with the blankets." The woman paused, as she flopped back onto the chair. "Twenty? My, you hide your age well. Or maybe it's just the uniform." 

"I'll take that as a compliment," the Guildmaster replied dryly, ignoring the rest of the Tribal's statement. "How old are you?" _My guess is eighteen...if that..._

"I just turned twenty-one. On April the eighteenth, to be exact." 

"Really? That's Nash's birthday." 

"You don't say," the woman said tersely. 

Mia nodded, and whispered reminiscently, "April the Eighteenth: The Day of Vigorous Defense." 

"Yeah, that's it." The woman looked around the room obviously frantic to change the subject. Finally, after a moment yielded no distractions she shouted, "Ashu, hurry the hell up! I'm terrible at entertaining!!" Then she turned back to Mia, "Men. They spend more time bathing and dressing, and we're supposed to be the fairer sex!" 

Mia gave a genuine smile to that sentiment. _Ashu??? At least I know his name…unless it means one night stand in the Tribal language? _ She gasped audibly at this thought, cursing herself for even allowing it to cross her mind. 

A rustling from the adjoining room and finally the opening of the door cracked the tension in the room, although Mia thought the woman was laughing at her with her eyes—her bright blue-green eyes. A moment later he came out, dressed in a plain burgundy robe, with his hair still wet and hanging in his face. Shocked, he stared between the two of them. After seeming to think over his next strategy, he walked up to Mia and bowed, "What can I do for you, Majesty?" 

The woman covered her mouth in surprise. "Majesty?" She whispered. 

"You can introduce me to your—friend—for starters, Nash." 

He turned to the redhead and said as formally as he possibly could, "Majesty, this is Sabre. She is a friend of mine." Then back to the woman, "Sabre, this is Mia Ausa, Guildmaster of Vane." 

The Tribal appeared to throw daggers at him, but she stood up and bowed respectfully to Mia nonetheless. 

"A pleasure to meet you, Sabre." 

"The same, I'm sure," the other woman said flippantly, still glaring at Nash. "Well, two's company, but three is most definitely a crowd, so I'll be leaving. I'll see you around, _Nash_." 

Nash grimaced as Sabre over-emphasized his name, but didn't say anything to either of them. 

_One night stand, definitely...oh Nash...are you really so desperate? I'd take you back, if you'd let me... _

The redhead made a quick retreat towards the door, and just as she was about to close it, she said something in a language Mia didn't recognize. Surprisingly, Nash turned to her and responded with a nod, indicating he understood, or was pretending to, at least. 

Mia smiled at him, and waited to hear the door close before continuing the conversation. "What did she say?" 

He shrugged, and started to fix his hair in the looking glass over the dresser. "What do you want, Mia?" 

She picked the garment up off her lap, walked up beside him and held it out. "I came by to get you to try this on. I'll have Magda alter it if necessary." 

His eyes peeked out from the shroud he wrapped himself whenever she was around and looked at his soon to be regalia with a bit of contempt. "You want me to do this now?" 

She nodded, putting on a bright smile as she took the stole off the hanger and handed him the rest. Somewhat reluctantly, he marched back into the room he had just come out of a few minutes earlier. 

Mia stared at herself in his mirror, and pulled at a few stubborn locks that weren't sitting right on her shoulders. _Maybe I should just tell him...apologize again...I've already said 'I'm sorry' a hundred times, but maybe...maybe this time he'll listen...and I should tell him how I feel...not just give him some pathetic regret...but what about the girl? I suppose now is as good a time as ever...before anything more serious develops...I think...I need to—_

He reappeared in the room, and she just stared at him, not realizing she was doing so, and certainly not aware that he seemed to read the sudden hunger in her eyes. The midnight blue pants and shirt were basic enough, and the red belt around his slender waist gave him some definition, but it was the robe that simply made him look magnificent. 

Although open in the front, it seemed to add inches to his height, as though drawing power and authority from the earth below him and channeling its existence upward and into the young man. The garment itself shimmered in the streaks of morning light pouring in through the large windows. The color of the robe was a blue so deep and intense it shifted from the deepest of sapphire to the cold perfection of an almost liquid ebony. Trimming the edges were narrow veins of gold leaf wire woven so flawlessly, they would give a spider envy. 

Without meeting her eyes, he said guardedly, "I think it fits." 

She smiled, and held out the stole. "Yes, it does. You look amazing in it, but me put on the finishing touch." 

He nodded and lifted his chin as she moved towards him. Standing the closest to him she had in months, her mouth ran dry as she fastened the most important piece to his collar and then straightened it with an insecure hand. At a loss for something more intelligent to say, she stammered, "I hope you like the Regalia. I had it redesigned a bit…and the headpiece…well I just didn't think it was you, and I didn't want people associating it…well, you know." 

He faintly nodded in understanding as she stepped back and admired him again; the stole certainly completed the ensemble, making him look more regal and proclaiming his position at the Guild. She smiled up at him, giving another compliment. "You really look handsome in that, Nash." _Damn you Robin, you're right… _

She could have sworn he blushed, but his face was so rigid, it was impossible to tell for sure. With a sigh, she backed away from him some more and said, "I need to talk to you, Nash. Promise me you will listen, and consider what I have to say. Don't just stand there and blow it off like you usually do." 

In a bored tenor he responded, "I am always attentive to you, Majesty. I always listen." 

She closed her eyes, and put a hand to her face, trying to hide the tears that were about to come—he was going to just play the jerk _again_, and she couldn't handle that, not now. "Nash, please," she implored, her voice straining on the two plaintive words. 

Once upon a time, not too long ago, just a tinge of anguish in her tone would cause him to run to her side, to hold her delicate little hands and tell her everything would be all right. But when she needed that comfort, as she did now, all he would do was stand back and watch her torment with that indifferent demeanor he had adopted as his own. She knew it was happening again; even as she turned so he wouldn't see her close what were becoming tear filled eyes. _He's becoming colder by the second, he's going to… _

It surprised her then when she felt his hand on her shoulder, and his voice grow gentle. "Don't cry, Mia. Tell me what's wrong. Are you hurt? Do you need my help?" 

She smiled as he spoke her name, and her confidence grew with his touch. She took her hand off her face and looked at him. For the first time in six months, he seemed genuinely concerned—compassionate even—and his eyes were not gazing off into the distance, but kindly set on hers. 

She sighed, as if she was summoning some sort of strength from within by doing so, and then began to speak. "I'm scared, Nash." 

He looked at her strangely, but kept his hand on her shoulder as he asked tenderly, "Scared of what? Did someone threaten you? There are all kinds of strange people in the city…" 

She shook her head. "No, I mean…are we ready for this?" 

"Ready for what?" 

"For everything we have worked for—the Guild to open and for Vane to be what it used to be…" 

He caught her off guard as he touched her cheek, "You mean you're not happy?" 

"No, I'm ecstatic that we have finally built the dream we both wanted for the city, but now that its time to open the doors and actually _be_ Vane again—well, I just don't want to let anyone down." 

He pulled her closer into a hesitant embrace as the questions rushed through her mind; was he going to come back to her? Could it finally happen? 

"I've told you time and time again Mia, you don't have to prove anything to anyone. On the ground or in the sky we will still be Vane. You don't need to plaster the place in gold—it makes it pretty, but it doesn't make it our home. Only _we_ can do that." 

She rested her head on his chest; he always knew just what to say to make her feel better. With her eyes closed as she relished the closeness of him, she whispered, "It's not just that, Nash. I mean, we're just two kids. What if Robin and Tamora and all the others that say we can't handle this are _right?_ What if we fail? I mean…people look up to us now! If we let them down…" 

He brushed her hair and said with much finality, "We're not going to fail. We haven't yet! Remember how badly destroyed the city was? Look at it now, and only four years later. It's amazing how much we all put into it, and it's certainly paid off." 

It was a miracle--either that or Jessica had beaten some sense into him. Mia couldn't believe they were standing there holding each other after all this time. There was more that needed to be said, though, much more. Taking a deep breath and looking up into his dark eyes she said softly, "Nash...I know I've done some horrible things to you. I know I have hurt you in ways that people who care greatly for each other should not ever even think of. But I'm asking you, I'm begging you...I know you won't take me back, and I know I don't deserve you..." 

He flinched at her last sentence, pulling his arms off of her and looking to the floor, as if he had found something incredibly interesting there all of a sudden. _No you don't! You're going to listen to all of this!!! _She grabbed onto his robe, forcing his eyes to meet hers again. 

"I can't torture myself anymore, Nash! I can't pretend I'm half the person I used to be when you were by my side! Do you remember at my mother's funeral when I was so tired, exhausted and emotionally spent that you had to practically hold me up? I don't think I could have made it through that day, and many others, if it wasn't for you. I don't think I would be where I am today if I hadn't known you—or loved you." 

Again he retreated from her, but this time, touched a hand to her cheek, brushing away the tears that had started to fall. His voice was fractured as he said: "Mia...don't say any more...please." 

"Why not? Because it's the truth and you don't want to hear it? Because it might cause you to think twice about how you've been treating me?" 

He shook his head and she saw that his eyes were damp, "No. I never wanted to hurt you, and I know that I have been. Please understand that things will never—they _can _never be the same. However, I will stop calling you Majesty if you want me to, but please don't ask me to do something I'm not ready for. Not now. There are some things I need to tell you, but I can't right now." 

"What things? Why can't you tell me? I don't understand, Nash." 

"Maybe someday I'll be able to answer those questions, Mia, but like I said, I can't right now." 

"Why not now? What is so terrible that you can't tell me? Do you want me to tell you my horrible secret? The one I've been keeping from you? Will that make it easier on you?" 

In a miserable mutter: "I don't want you do to anything you don't want to do." 

She shook her head and drew him into her arms. "What do I have to bring you back to me? How long are we going to play these stupid games? I can't do this alone! Vane is as much as your legacy as it is mine!" 

For some reason, perhaps because even he could not infinitely bury his emotions, Nash didn't resist embrace. His voice was weak as he spoke the ambiguous answer into her ear, "I don't know." 

Mia sighed audibly as she felt his cheek brush hers, and the impossible questions dashed through her mind. Could it have worked? Was this horrid charade finally going to end? She tilted her head, inviting his lips to amble up her neck, and felt the heat rush to her ears, when amazingly, they did. It had been so long, she had almost forgotten what this felt like, but was all the more eager to remember. 

She closed her eyes as he tangled his hands into her curls; it was one of those little things that had always relaxed her. His breath was warm and heavy as he worked his way up to her face, making a trail of tiny, tender kisses. When he had finally reached her chin, she studied him for a moment before whispering, "I miss this. I miss you." 

He smiled at her before placing a perfectly devoted kiss on her forehead, and then to her delight, pulled her closer and gazed down into her eyes, with that desperate anticipation and yearning—just the way he had all those years ago at Jessica's wedding. She closed her eyes and felt his lips lingering just above hers before finally descending to touch. 

It was too perfect. 

A noise behind her caused him to lift his head, and forget the kiss they were about to share. Mia turned around to glare at, and reprimand the intruder, but stopped when she saw whom it was. Sabre stood there, her mouth open, and her face as red as her hair as she said, "Oh dammit! Sorry, Ashu!" Then as quickly as she appeared, she vanished, and slammed the door behind her. 

Mia reached for Nash's hand, hoping he would ignore the imposition and they could continue, but with his eyes averted from hers, he said simply, "This isn't right, Mia. Not now, at least. I think you better leave." 

She pounded her fists on his chest, her words full of agony with a streak of fury behind them. "I don't want to leave! I love you, Nash! I know things can't be the same, but can't we at least try? Am I not worth a second chance to you? I can't run this place without you! I can't be who I need to be without you!" 

The tears came freely now; she buried her face in his chest, and after she felt his arms behind her, she looked up at him again, "You are everything I am not, and everything I have ever looked for in another person! There is nothing the two of us can't accomplish—together. I know I have wronged you—in the most horrible way even—but I am begging for your forgiveness. I am begging for you to look at me the way you used to! I am begging for any sign of humanity behind that mask you wear whenever I am around! What is more important to you, Guildmaster and Premier, or Mia and Nash?" 

"I think you already answered that for me, Mia." 

Although she could hear the sorrow in his words, it still infuriated her. "How can you be so cold? So unfeeling! I have just bared my soul to you and you just stand there! Don't you care!?" 

He recoiled from her and gave a bow, his voice growing flat, and the change—the deformation he always went through in her presence—finally punctured his true persona. "I do care. As the Premier of the Guild I will be able to help you with your duties, and I will always protect, honor and support you." She heard the pompousness leave him voice for a moment and become replaced with sorrow as he added: "I promised you that a long time ago, and that promise still stands. It always will." 

"I don't need a protector, a secretary, nor an assistant...I just...I just need you." 

"Perhaps that was true at one time, Mia, but I don't think so anymore. I think you've demonstrated that to me at least once." 

Her face distorted in wrath as the tears returned, and this time, she did slap him. 

****** 

Even a hot bath, a change of clothes, a bologna sandwich, the satisfaction of her handprint on his face, nor the space of a few hours hadn't eased Mia's rage from her last encounter with Nash. Some of it was the enigma of a girl who just happened to be in the wrong place at the right time, but most of it was the fact that he had flat out scorned her, even after she poured her soul out to him. The stone casket he buried himself in whenever he didn't want to show emotion was what killed her the most though. That, and the question of whether or not he would have shut himself into it,had Sabre not returned. 

_Sabre… _Mia gritted the name across her teeth. Strange that Nash would suddenly decide to move on with his life, and with someone as…bucolic as this woman. That redhead was not only disrespectful--she was tasteless! Didn't she have any manners? One certainly did not just open doors knowing people to be on the other side! And what is Nash's fascination with her? He said they were friends. Was that friends in the sense of one night? Or longer? The possibilities were maddening itches that she couldn't scratch, and ones she knew would drive her insane.

Slumping into the chair behind her desk, she looked at the stacks of papers before her. In no mood to deal with them, she stared at them hatefully in an effort to scare them off, but as always, it didn't work. It never did. One shiny piece buried deep under the piles caught her eye and grabbed it. It was a portrait—one she had bought a while ago not only for its unusual accuracy, but for the subject. Since _he_ was certainly the last person she wanted to look at right now, she tossed it into the fireplace. Then, giving a tired glance at the statues near the windows, she forced a dim smile. Bathed in the noonday light they still stood proud, reminding her of her friends. 

Her mother had given her those as a gift, but they came with the firm instruction to 'always remember those you love and never let friends be pushed aside by duty.' It had been such an easy direction, but yet, sitting there, staring at them in the solitude of the office made her feel guilty. Her friends were here to enjoy her company at the Festival, and she had neglected them by been holed up in her office, tied up in meetings, or hiding from Nash, from them, from everything. 

Trepidation suddenly ate her. Could history be repeating itself? Was she going to become her ever-busy mother, or even worse, her reclusive, obsessive father? Had Nash really changed so much that nothing would break the spell he cast on himself? The lack of obvious answers for this conundrum made her hands sweat. With a sigh, she rested her cheek on her palm, ignoring the dampness glazing her face. Her eyes closed in concentration of what her mother had told her that previous August, and examined that murky memory for a solution, or at least a path to one. 
    
     ******

The room was as dismal as it was on her last visit, and Mia had tried to avoid it at all costs. This time, though, there was no dodging, for her mother had requested an audience with her, and so she would brave the environment she dreaded. Although she knew her mother was ill, she refused to believe it was anything more than that. After all, the woman was barely thirty-six years old, and aside from this small flu she had caught, Lemia was as healthy as anyone could ask, wasn't she? Besides, no one died from the flu anymore, did they? 

Still, denial was one thing Mia had become quite adept at and had worked to limit her trips to Lemia's sick room to only one quick visit a day, usually to say good night. This evening, however, Nash had told her that Lemia expected her at seven o'clock, and that he was to make sure she didn't forget. 

With a silent nod to the guard at her door, and receiving a worried look from the attendant Robin had assigned to act as Lemia's nurse, Mia pushed the door open and quietly entered. Walking close to the bed where the former Guildmaster had been spending much of her time lately, Mia felt a strange sensation of dread pulling at her; as though the very air of the room had somehow turned bad, or even evil. She tried to shake the feeling and looked back to the bed's occupant. Regardless of her premonitions, her mother was sitting up, her back supported with pillows as she leaned against the headboard. Her violet eyes seemed hollow, but she still gave her daughter a tired smile. 

Lemia motioned for her to sit on the bed and spoke in soft voice, one that told of much consideration and exhaustion. Even her light blonde hair seemed frayed, old and tired. "Have a seat my child. There are some things we need to discuss. As you know, my time here is growing short." 

Mia could only think to protest. "Mother, don't talk like that. You are going to be—" 

Carefully refolding the small paper she had been holding, Lemia laid it on her blanket and covered it with a shaking hand as she interrupted. "Hush, child, and listen to me. I have many things to tell you, and little time to say them in. First let me say that I could not have asked for a better a daughter or a more worthy successor. You have made me proud in everything you have done my child. Everything. By the looks of it, you'll have our city rebuilt and the Guild open in less than a year from now. I only wish I could be here to celebrate that day with you, or too look out again from the balcony as Vane floated over the valley. But there's no point in wishing for the impossible." 

Mia began to reach out to her mother's hand, the denial expanding into a fear that grew in her heart at Lemia's words. "Mother, you mustn't talk like this." 

"Shh… It's inevitable, my child. You already know we Ausas were not gifted with long lives, perhaps that is the price we must pay for the powerful magic we wield. It's not exactly a secret, but it's also something that, by tradition, is not spoken… one of the few traditions that was created to try and help us." 

Mia reluctantly perched herself on the bed, and then waited for her mother to continue. 

"I've dedicated my life to the Guild, Mia. To this wonderful, terrible, place. And in return it cost me the little joy I'd found. Though it did leave me one treasure, you…my child. Don't become what I became, Mia. Know your duties but don't be afraid to delegate your authority when you need to. Share the burden the Guild places on your shoulders with someone, someone you know you can trust. That's the last advice I can leave you with, though I doubt you'll need it. You've already done a wonderful job…" She paused a moment, a slight look of confusion on her face. "Oh dear, I've said that already, haven't I? I'm starting to wander, aren't I?" 

Mia's hand lit on her mother's, and felt it pull back from her as though protecting the small scrap of paper. The light came back into Lemia's eyes as her voice regained its strength. 

"Listen to me, Mia. Because what I need to tell you now is not going to be easy, for me to say or for you to hear. But I've got to tell you now, since I may not have another opportunity. I should have told you before, but I couldn't… Mostly because of tradition, but also because… because I later chose not to. Because I feared that your learning the truth would be more painful for you than not knowing" 

"Tradition? What do you mean, Mother?" 

"I'm sorry, Mia. Please understand that I didn't want to keep this from you. I wanted to tell you from the beginning, but Tradition said I shouldn't and, in this, perhaps it was for the best." A soft sigh escaped from her. "Tradition… The traditional role of the Guildmaster, as archaic as it may be, is that we never really marry. I never knew who my father was, child, not until my own mother died. You would have liked Relina, and she would have been as proud of you as I am. But she died when I was little more than a child, before she could talk to me about… about what I'm trying to tell you now." Lemia frowned, and then continued: "Anyway, that's why you were never told about your father and who he was. It has always been believed that it was best that the next Guildmaster be raised by, and only by, the current Guildmaster… her mother. At least, that's what became Vanetian tradition over the centuries. The new Guildmaster must be trained, her skill honed and her mind made ready to rule the city and lead the guild. Then, and always before she's truly ready, she must rule. There may be a small time for happiness in her life, a very small time for her to find love. But love and duty do not make good bedfellows…" 

She paused, and then thrust the words out with a great deal of exertion. "Understand that when I tell you that your father loved you, he did. He loved me too, at least for a time." Lemia nearly fought for breath as she said, "Ghaleon was your father, Mia. And the reason I'm telling you now may be worse than the secret." 

A frigid blow hit Mia as she sat in the warm room. Her mother was looking at her, as if waiting for a response, and so in a tiny voice—a little more than a shocked whisper she replied; "Ghaleon? Mother… I… I helped kill him when he…" A look of regret passed her face. "I could remember him being kind to me, before…before he…" 

Lemia interrupted her before she could go further. "Yes, child. There was a time when he was both kind and gentle. He was very caring to a terribly young and lonely Guildmaster. He became her world, and for the first time in memory a Guildmaster fell in love with her Premier. Before he changed… before Dyne died… Oh Mia, I wish you could have known him then. He was a completely different person. But then, then he changed and became someone totally different—as though he had been replaced by something that didn't have a soul. Even his eyes transformed, they became flat and dead from within. It didn't happen all at once, but once it began it was unstoppable. And sometimes, Mia, I blame myself for that. I never really let him be a figure in your life—again by tradition—and he seemed to resent me for that. I know he felt used—I can't blame him there. I honestly thought he understood, but I guess he didn't. But as you know, my daughter, there were times, when I'd see him holding you, or playing with you, some of that light would again burn within him…even if just for a few moments." 

"And all the times I thought about telling you, even after he started to change, that little nagging 'it's not traditional, it's not how things are done in Vane' kept coming into my head. Fool that I was, I listened to it. And when you, Alex, and the others had to stop him…kill him, I knew I'd done the right thing, and because of that _you_ were able to do the right thing. If you'd known he was your father, you might have hesitated. Mia, he sold his soul to the Vile Tribe. He saw my reaction when he asked me to join him. He said he could control them…" 

As the possibilities and consequences twirled within her, Mia's breath wrestled to escape to ask, "He…Mother?" 

Lemia nodded. "He came to my office and said he needed to talk to me in private. I saw that he wasn't wearing his badge, but thought nothing of it as he'd done that before. He didn't say a word as he stepped next to me, but then he touched my cheek and, after a moment, kissed me. The next thing I knew we were standing in my bedroom. Mia, it was as though he had come back to life again, that the Ghaelon I loved had returned. He kissed me in a way that he hadn't in a very, very long time, and we…" 

Mia fought an embarrassed reaction as the last bits of color manifested in her mother's cheeks, "Anyway…afterwards, he told me of what Dyne and Althena had done all those years ago. I couldn't believe what he was saying, but I couldn't find the strength or the will to interrupt him. He told me there was room for me, a place beside him, and that he needed my help and my magic. He was already working on a way to find the child that was the Goddess, and that he knew how to restore her powers… And then, in exchange for doing this, he and I would rule together—perhaps even as gods." 

"I told him he was insane, banding together with the same people that Althena had cast out, the very people we had fought in her name. He laughed, Mia, he laughed and said that meant nothing, that there were more important things in the world than humans' petty squabbles. I refused him, and then realized that his eyes hadn't changed at all, that I had only wanted to see them the way they were when we first met." 

"He looked at me, Mia. Goddess knows I've never seen an expression like that before, or since. There was anger, sadness, and something I can't describe… something no one should be able to show. He told me that he had feared that I wouldn't accept his offer, and that he was sorry for what he had to do next. I…I thought he was going to kill me, but then he bent over and kissed me… and said that part of him still loved me and would never forget me. Then…. Then the room went dark. When I woke up, I was in a filthy cell and chained to a rough bed. He must have used a sleep spell, and put that horrible mask on me." 

Mia saw her mother shiver, and mimicked the motion, purely by happenstance. A pause held—even the air refused to breathe—as both of them looked away from each other, and then Lemia continued: "After you freed me, I found something in my jewelry box. He must have put it there after we…after he… anyway, it was his Master's badge, and there was a note with it." She glanced down to the small scrap of yellowed paper in her hand. "It told me that he was sorry that he had to do what he did, that there was no choice but to fulfill his destiny. He said he did care, but couldn't allow Mel or I to stop him… and that I should never tell you about him, who he really was. Now I've betrayed his last request of me, just another failure for me to carry into the next world. I've failed you as a mother, and as Guildmaster." 

Finding words to say after all that just been revealed her was a grueling task, but Mia managed, "Mother… You shouldn't talk like that, you never failed me or--" But Lemia shushed her with a weak wave of her hand. 

"Shh, listen to me. I'm getting tired now and it's becoming difficult to form the words I need to say. I know you love your friend Nash. And from the whispers I'm not supposed to hear, I gather you're already living like a married couple. Don't give me that shocked look, Mia, I'm neither deaf nor stupid. But… believe it or not, I'm happy for you. Nash has done so much for us, for Vane. I can tell he loves you, Mia, just in the way he talks and the way he looks at you. It reminds me of…" With another frown the tired woman paused, trying to shove the words out and not let Mia make any parallels between them. "You…you need to know this, Mia. Because it could impact Nash or who ever you choose as your life mate." 

The Guildmaster's eyes filled with anxiety as they met her mother's. "What?" 

With a tired sigh, Lemia nearly whispered, "I don't know how old Ghaleon was, but I know now that he wasn't human. I know you got some of his magic, which was incredibly potent. As a result I know that you're already far more powerful than I ever was and that growth can only continue. You've already proven that many times over. What else you inherited from him I'm not sure." 

Mia just shook her head in incredulity at all of this…it was all just a bad dream, right? She'd wake up in the morning and everything would be fine, wouldn't it? 

Lemia weakly pet her daughter on the cheek. "You know about the Ausa curse, that no Guildmaster as lived past the age of thirty eight, and that we're raised by the Council and Premier if our mother dies too soon—your great grandmother died in her early twenties." 

"But while I was Ghaleon's prisoner, in those brief moments of sanity that mask let me, or when he would come to my cell and remove it to just stare at me and gloat over his impending god-hood, I realized something." In another ragged breath she said, "Mia, Ghaleon was at least a hundred years old—maybe even more—yet he didn't look a day over thirty. I… you need to know this, because you may have broken the curse, only to inherit a new one. Because of his blood you may have a normal lifespan, or one that would exceed Nash's by…." 

Mia's own voice seemed to echo from nowhere, her lips hardly moving. "Decades? Longer? I had just started to accept that he would outlive me… but this?" 

"Decades or Centuries. I don't know, Mia. But to Nash, I doubt it will make any difference, but I felt you had to know…and have time to understand it before you…. make your decision." Her voice was becoming weaker, but she pushed through…having to hurry slightly as her words began to slur slightly from exhaustion. "Child, I think the time has come that we…that you…did away with some of the traditions that have bound us to the past. Guildmasters should not just be rulers, they should be people with lives, and with husbands and children they raise together." 

"You've done well, my daughter, but you have a hard road ahead. I can tell you that the.. the coun… the council is difficult to deal with. Find an ally, someone that can help you and your Nash. I've…." Lemia's head dipped and her eyes closed for a moment, as though sleeping. Then, with a jerk, she snapped it back up. "I've heard that you've spoken to Gregory, and asked him to join the Council. He's a strange man, I've known him all my life and yet I never really knew him, I don't know that anyone truly does. He never seems to change; yet for all his mysteries there is no greater or more loyal mage in Vane. I feel you can trust him, I wish I had when I had the chance… He will support you, but he'll also tell you if he thinks you're wrong about something." With a saddened shake of her head, she added, "I tried to talk to Tamora about this, and supporting you in your choice to open Vane to everyone. She laughed at me until she realized I was serious. Then, she just, left. I'm afraid I rather upset her, she had such dreams for you and Orinth." 

Mia glanced away from her mother, as if trying again to evade the inexorable. When she looked back, her mother was struggling in her effort to lie back down. With a face plastered in dread, she supported the frail woman's back and removed the pillows that were keeping her upright. 

Lemia closed her eyes, as she lay down and whispered, "Mia…whatever else you do, use your head, but don't be afraid to make decisions based on your heart." 

"Mother!" 

"Leave now, daughter… I'm tired and I need to sleep. Please…. And thank you…for your loyalty, and your love. Goodbye, Mia… my love." 

Mia watched in dreadful awe as her mother all but perished before her. Although clairvoyance was not one of her many Gifts, somehow, she knew this would be the last goodbye. Her mother might live a few more days, if that, but she knew, some way, somehow, this was the last time they would speak. Tears spilled down her face as she sat there, perfectly still, perfect proper, watching Lemia find slumber one last time. 

Sometime later (she wasn't sure just how much time had passed) she sensed another person enter the room and walk up behind her. Gentle hands found her shoulders and rubbed them. She didn't have to turn around, she knew who it was. His voice was gentle as he whispered, "Its past ten, Mia. Are you all right?" 

Emotions swirled through her; this was real. Lemia was dying, if not already dead, and the truth—the horrible truth she had just been given would haunt her for the rest of her life. Should she tell Nash? No. At least, not now, not yet. There were preparations to consider—things to plan. Besides, how would he take it? Trying to distance herself from this room that would soon be a death chamber (and all that had transpired here) she stood up, and started to walk past him, "I need to write to Jessica and Alex. I need to let them know—" 

He pulled her sleeve, trying to draw her into an embrace. "I already took care of that, Mia. Everyone should be here in a few days." 

At first she wanted to shake him off, but a moment later surrendered and rested her face on his chest. Every bit of strength she had seemed to be ripped from within her; even her legs started to buckle out from under her. For a few minutes he stood there and supported her as he kissed her flooding cheeks. Her voice was tired as she finally slipped out of denial, "Mother is dying." 

He pet her hair soothingly, like he always did. "I know Mia. I wish there was something we could do, but we can't. We have to accept that." 

"And how do we 'just accept it' Nash? We fought death; we fought it to a standstill when we stopped Ghaleon. And now it's cheating. It couldn't stop us, so it's taking Mother for its revenge." 

"I can't answer that, my love; I doubt anyone really can, but I can tell you that after time, it won't hurt as much. I know it doesn't seem possible right now. I…" Nash seemed to make a decision at that point and reached out to take her by both shoulders in his hands, turning her towards the distant door. "Mia, please come with me. You really shouldn't stay here right now, I want to tell you something—something I can't do here." 

With one arm around her shoulders, he led her out of the bedroom and into the small parlor just outside. She felt him deposit her onto a sofa, and then sit next to her, his face clouded in thought for a moment before he reached out to lay his arm around her shoulder. She pulled her legs up on the couch, and curled into his embrace like a baby. In a voice barely above a whisper she said, "I don't understand it, Nash, mother was getting better, she should be healthy. She should be here when the Guild reopens next spring…It's not fair." Her voice climbed to a near heartrending shriek of pain. "It's not FAIR!" 

"I don't think we're supposed to understand it, and I'm afraid there's nothing in the rules about anything in life having to be fair, Mia. When my parents were killed, it didn't make any sense to me, either. But then I remembered something my mother told me once, when I was a kid, and while it didn't make everything right, it helped me feel better, to accept if not understand." 

Mia opened her eyes in near surprise and barely lifted her head off of him to meet his eyes. In all the years she'd known him, Nash had never mentioned his family—not once, not ever. "Killed?" 

He nodded ever so slightly. "It's not something I like to think about, but my mother's story has always helped me keep things in perspective." 

Looking down at his shirt she could see it stained with her mascara and tears, and she pleaded, "Tell it to me? Please?" 

He gave a feeble smile and lost his fingers in her thick curls, guiding her head to rest against his chest again. "All right, though I'm sure you've heard it before." 

Mia smiled as he began the story. The moment he started he realized she knew it, but maybe Nash's version would be different, and it was Nash, after all. She eased back into his arm and listened, at ease for the moment, for the first time in all that horrible day. 

"A long time ago, all the people lived on the Blue Star. It was a beautiful place, with huge oceans and endless skies. Then, one day, two lands led by humans began a war with each other. No one remembers the reason, which makes it all the more foolish because soon all of the other lands and peoples joined in, picking one side or the other. Years went by, and all attempts at finding peace proved to be all but impossible to grasp as death and destruction flooded over all the lands. Soon, almost all were dead, the survivors huddling in caves and lost valleys, fighting for survival. Finally, after many, many deaths, Althena took pity and rescued her children, bringing them here, to Lunar. 

"At that time, our world was a barren place without air, without water, without life. Nothing would grow; nothing would survive. The Goddess used her magic to make it habitable, to give it life so that it could shelter life, and told her people to live and prosper, with the promise that one day they might return to the Blue Star. 

"Althena warned her children that she did not want war, for that was the very thing that had almost destroyed them, and what she had rescued them from. And so, for a time, the world was at peace. The people gathered together and survived. They formed camps, then towns, then cities that flourished. The people embraced life, and they multiplied. Althena promised them protection, so long as they lived in peace. 

"To shield herself and her children, Althena created four dragons. She made one from the ice in the north, one from the water in the oceans, one from the fire within the ground, and one from the night sky itself. After the dragons were formed, Althena decided that they needed a leader, a human, to be able to harness their power, and so the first Dragonmaster was born. 

Mia smiled at that part, just as she always did when her own mother…or Ghaleon… would tell her the story. Even now, the thought of all that 'multiplying' was funny to her, but she didn't say anything and let Nash continue, but that's when the story began to differ from the tale she knew…or thought she knew. 

"Soon, the Originals grew old, as all humans must, and it came time for them to pass from this world. The first to die was a woman named Cysara. As her husband was performing the ritual to return her body to the earth, he called to Althena, asking the Goddess what would become of her soul in this new world. For Cysara had been born of another world, the one they had been forced to flee. 

"The woods fell silent as his tearful words broke the silence of their ritual. 'Althena, what will become of her? She is the first, will she…will all of us be condemned to wander the dark beyond for eternity without a home?' 

"Althena's voice came from the darkness surrounding the small glade he had chosen for Cysara's rest. She spoke to the man, and she said, 'Look to the heavens. Do they not still exist? Look to the bright Blue Star that you have left behind, does it not still exist? It does and it shall continue to do so. Do not fear, she will be waiting for you there.'  


"Siria (for that was the man's name) shook his head at the Goddess, or where he thought she might be out in the dark woods. He was surprised at the lack of fear in his heart, but not the confusion her words brought him. 'But the Blue Star is dead, and ravaged in war.' 

"The Goddess appeared before him, floating in the air just above his head and surrounded by glory. She was silent for a moment as she stared into his eyes and weighed his soul. Her words to him were firm. 'No, it is not. Someday all of my children will return to it. For some of you it may be in your lifetime, and for others it may be generations past, but in the future the Blue Star will unite us all.' 

"Siria asked, 'But how? I do not wish to wait an eternity to be reunited with my beloved.' 

"Althena again answered the man's question, 'Tell the people of this world that they must live as one. While they have lived in peace they have not kept their promise to me. They have begun dividing themselves with titles and cities and walls. That will not do. For soon brother will turn against brother and even that peace will die, as it died on the Blue Star. You have my promise, and now you must remind the rest of my children of the one they made to me. For only a united people will return to the Blue Star.' 

"Siria nodded and left the Goddess, promising to spread her covenant. But like today, most mocked him and refused to listen. He wandered far and wide, little more than a beggar living from day to day, trying to convince the people to knock down the walls of their cities and to embrace each other as equals. But none would listen—at the best he was laughed at and ridiculed, at other times he was stoned and driven from their cities. All wrote him off as crazy, and when he died, tired and alone, there was none to mourn him save Althena. 

"Still, to this day, Althena keeps that vow she made to Siria. And even when we don't want to listen, or don't want to believe it, we have to know its still there. Sometimes, when you hear a whisper over your shoulder, or a little voice inside your head telling you right from wrong, never fear or question it. For it is the voice of your ancestors, and the people who love you, guiding you in the hopes that someday, will we all live on the Blue Star, just as Althena promised." 

Nash took a deep breath, "And that's the story, as much of it as I remember, anyway." 

"I've heard some of that before, but the end—that is different than the legend I was told as a child." 

Nash shrugged—she didn't see it, but she felt it. "Well, maybe each city has its own version, but I think the belief is the same all over the world—that someday we will go back to the Blue Star, and whether that be in death or in life, we will always have our loved ones with us. They will always be there, in our hearts and in our spirits. Watching and guiding us until we can see them again, on the Blue Star." 

Mia smiled, as she snuggled against him again, but didn't say anything. She glanced out the window and saw the bright Blue Star—the symbol of Althena's covenant glowing there against a perfectly black sky, as if confirming the legend Nash had just told her. 

****** 

Mia had started to retrieve the portrait from the fireplace when a rap came on the door and the ever-present guard peeked in. "Majesty, Master Gregory to see you." 

Mia straightened her dress as she smiled, "Show him in." 

Gregory smirked a little as he walked up to her, stopping before her work desk. It was an unusual expression to see on his face and she hesitated until, without a word, he bowed and placed a scroll in her hands. With that her own smile returned and, laying the document on her desk, she unfurled it and touched a soft hand to his seal. But as she read it, a frown dropped on her face. The Illusionist noticed and with a tilt of his head asked, "Majesty…this is not acceptable?" 

She met his eyes, "No…Gregory, this is wonderful. You have done so much for me, and so much for Nash, but I don't think it matters any more--" 

His voice was almost too happy, as he interrupted with a laugh, "It doesn't?" 

Although surprised by his voice, Mia shook her head. "No, it doesn't. He's made that very plain to me. Gregory, he doesn't care for me anymore, or even if he does, he'll never show it again." 

The mage's grin faded as he spoke, "How do you mean, Majesty? If you don't mind my asking." 

She gave him a tiny smile as a sigh parted it from her lips, "I apologized—" She paused for a second, and with a splash of color on her face continued, "I'm sure Nash told you about what. I begged for his forgiveness, and then, just as he started to come around, and I told him what he was to me, how I really felt, he retreated back into his hole, that hideous little façade of his. Gregory, I don't know what I can do! I don't know if this going to work out! How can we run the Guild if we can't talk to each other!" Slumping down into her chair, she added, "Maybe the Council was right." 

Gregory bowed to her, "Forgive my forwardness, Majesty, but I believe you are very mistaken on that sentiment. Unlike some members of the Council, who seem only interested in the advancement of their respective families, I truly have nothing to gain one way or another. So I can say with the utmost certainty and respect that I believe you made the right choice of Premier. As for the difficulty between the two of you… this too shall pass, in its appointed time." After a moment, he gave a wink as he smiled at her, "Besides, with me there to rattle his cage constantly, the poor boy doesn't stand a chance." 

_You certainly do have a way with him, Gregory…Mia stood back up and, stepping around the desk, hugged the elusive Illusionist. "If you really think it's for the best, Gregory." _

He released her and gave another crow-footed smile, "I know it is, my child. All that remains is to convince that hard headed Premier-to-be of yours to reopen that closed mind of his." 

Mia was about to speak again when a sudden commotion outside the door sent her running towards it. Gregory followed, arriving at it just ahead of her. Just as he reached for the golden handle—pushing her protectively behind him—it was thrust open by a guard with a very angry expression on his face. 

Three quite agitated sentries were surrounding Gravitt, their hands on their weapons and watching his every move. To his credit, the huge man just stood silently, though the look his silver eyes gave the guards held a cold promise of reprisal. Mia stepped to the side of Gregory and looked at them sternly. "What is going on here?" 

Darshak spoke first, "We have a problem, Majesty." 

Gravitt quickly wiped the anger from his expression, retaining just enough annoyance to be accepted as reasonable as he turned and bowed to her, "Pardon me for disturbing you, Majesty, but we do indeed have a problem." 

Gregory asked, "What is it?" 

Darshak gave his summary of the situation in a clipped voice, "Gravitt wants to bring in some carts, Majesty, rather large carts. Master Alastair told us no carts were to be permitted through the gate—none whatsoever." 

The huge man with the silver eyes smiled broadly. "I wouldn't be so adamant about this if it didn't involve the gift I promised you, Majesty. I simply cannot leave them outside. They must be watched constantly until they can be given to you." 

"Which is another problem," Darshak said. "We don't have the manpower for that." 

"Ah, it is just until the reception tonight. I would offer them to you now, but they need to be presented rather that just unwrapped." 

They all stared at her, waiting for some sort of answer, and it took a moment before she put her personal problems out of her mind, drew herself up, and glared at the tall guard. But just as she was about to direct Darshak to personally escort Gravitt's carts in and baby sit them himself, if need be, a ruckus from within the room caused them all to turn and stare at the fireplace. 

A steady stream of curses echoed from within the huge fireplace as small bits of carbon, dust, and mortar fell to the ashes from the last fire. There were a series of scratching noises as the scatter of debris became heavier. Then suddenly a large form fell down from the flue, a shrieked torrent of expletives following it. A form slammed into the base with a meaty thud and rolled out onto the floor, hidden by the fog of ash and carbon. A cough and another choice word from within the black cloud of soot revealed none other than the engineer of the Guild herself. She lay there, stunned for a moment, as the soot began to settle around her and eyes not even trying to focus as she fought for breath. 

Mia gasped, as everyone else just stood in shock. "Artemus—are you all right?" 

The woman—although barely recognizable under the layer of dirt—tried to roll from her back to her side as she panted, fighting to regain her breath. 

Gregory stepped closer to the black-faced engineer. "I'll get Robin, or some of her staff." 

Artemus waved a hand, and tried to speak, but all that came out was a jagged, hacking cough. 

The Illusionist frowned, and then said to Mia: "Stay with her and try to keep her from moving. I'll be back with help as soon as I can." He didn't bother with formalities as he pressed his palms together and disappeared in a swirl of heatless black flame, much to the shock of Gravitt. 

Mia gave a smile of thanks to the space that had just been Gregory, and then crouched down next to the brunette. "It's all right, Artemus, just try to breathe. We'll get you to Robin as soon as we can." 

The filthy woman just shook her head, clearly indicating she wasn't thrilled with the idea of having to put up with the testy Healer or her methods, but was still not ready, or able, to talk. 

Turning back to the situation at hand, Mia stood up, found her most formal voice, and gave the guards the order that had been on her lips moments before. "Darshak, I assume you have not been introduced to Gravitt. He is a gentleman and one of our most generous benefactors, and as such, he _will_ be shown the utmost respect. Please allow me to supersede Master Alastair's mandate to keep the gates closed to carts. You will permit Gravitt's wagons to pass, place them in a secure location, and you will personally stand watch for him until he is able to collect them tonight." 

The sentry simply bowed to her, clearing feeling the less than subtle rebuke. Then, with a nod to his companions, they disappeared from the office and closed the door silently behind themselves.

The huge man smiled, "Thank you." 

Mia nodded an acknowledgement to him and then turned to the now-breathing engineer, "Help is coming. Are you all right? Please say something." 

"Something," was the sarcastically spiked reply as Artemus propped herself up on her elbows. "Yeah. I'm fine, but I think I have rope burn in places I'd forgotten about." 

The Guildmaster crouched down again, and started to untie the crude rope harness around the woman's waist. "Please don't move!" 

The engineer obeyed and shook her head again as she looked up the shaft from which she had made her rapid decent. "Ain't that a kick in the ass!" 

Mia couldn't help but ask as she jerked the harness free from the other's waist: "What were you doing in the chimney?" 

Artemus tried to find her legs, but couldn't, and just remained on the floor as she gave the Guildmaster a look that said _you should know_. "You left me a note saying there was a blockage in there." 

"No I didn't." 

"Strange. Oh well, it's a good thing I went in there, though, because whole damn thing was caked in soot and creosote. We really gotta clean these things more often." 

Mia nodded, stupefied by the woman's knowledge of so many abstract subjects, which now, apparently included chimney maintenance. 

Artemus tried to stretch herself up just a little, but couldn't seem to fight the pain in her back. "Twenty silver says it hasn't been cleaned since the Fa—the rebuilding started. If that thing had caught fire we'd have lost half the Guild Manor before we could put it out. There's nothing nastier than a bad chimney fire, especially in one as big and caked as this one was." She looked over to Gravitt, a frown of mistrust creasing the soot-lines on her face. "Well, almost nothing." 

Mia grimaced. 

"Don't worry, I got it out—although I think I'm wearing most of it." 

The room held a collective breath until Gravitt smiled at Mia, "You have such a dedicated staff. I would have expected them all to be at the Festival rather than working. I am quite jealous." He bowed, "Speaking of which, I believe I have some preparations to make for tonight—if you'll excuse me, Majesty." 

The Guildmaster gave one of her perfect smiles to the man, and felt a shiver of anticipation race up her spine as she watched him leave, her mind playing with the idea of what exactly this gift was going to be. _I know I'm acting like a child, but I love surprises… _

With a labored cough, the engineer rolled herself to her knees, and looked behind her at the rope that had followed her down. She picked up the end that hadn't been secured to her body and examined it closely, as Mia just watched from a few feet away. 

Artemus nearly growled as she threw the end of the rope that had just held her interest towards Mia. "I know many of you people don't like me, but is killing me really worth your time?!" 

The mage stood frozen in shock at the action and the accusation. "What!? What are you talking about?" 

The brunette snarled, "Someone cut the frigging rope! Look at it!" 

Mia slowly bent over and picked up what had been thrown at her moments earlier. Artemus was right; the slice was too clean to be made by anything other than a knife. Finding a business-like demeanor, she asked, "Who was working with you?" 

"No one. I tied myself to the top of the chimney. My department is spread so thin, I couldn't afford assistance—and I shouldn't have needed it." 

Mia frowned, a pang of guilt hitting her for asking so much of one of the Guild's most valuable members. 

Even through her anger, Aretmus made it clear that she was determined to stand. But as she started to put her weight on her feet, she spotted something out of place in the disturbed ashes. Without rising she reached out and picked up the small portrait Mia had thrown into the grate earlier. With an audible 'ugh' the brunette forced herself upright and put the picture on the seat of the nearest chair, before grabbing the back of it to support her aching body. "I think you'll want that. Maybe not right now, but later, I'm sure you will." 

Anger filled Mia's face as she started to reply hotly, but Artemus cut her off. "Oh don't you start that with me too! Every girl around this idiot place wants him—except me maybe, but that's because I think he's a schmuck. Somehow you were the one lucky enough to get him." 

The Guildmaster blinked in shock at the forwardness of the engineer, and her use of a strange word. "A what?" 

Artemus left decorum in another dimension as she shook her head in both pain and frustration. "A schmuck, and if you don't know what it means, I'm not gonna tell you. There are some things even I won't say out loud—so just never mind. All that I know is that for better or worse, Nash will do whatever you ask him to do. And he will be a good leader for this loony-bin, so start treating him right, or you'll answer to me." 

Mia's mouth hung open in shock as the soot-covered woman continued, "Yeah, I know I'm speaking out of turn, but since no one around here seems to think I'm much of a member of the Guild—hell, now you nutty people are trying to kill me! Anyway, I don't have much to lose by being blunt." 

"What do you mean not 'much of' a member of the Guild??" Mia's question was strongly voiced, but it didn't phase the engineer. 

"You mean you don't know? Or are you just denying it?" Artemus spat back. 

Mia shook her head, completely confused. 

The brunette scowled, "Tamora told me that _you said I wasn't really a part of this place and that __you wanted me to pack up and leave as soon as I finished patching the place up. Then she said that I shouldn't attend Nash's inauguration on Saturday as one of the faculty since I'm 'just the hired help' and that I don't 'represent the ideal that is truly Vane.' Whatever the hell that's supposed to be" _

_Tamora…"That's not true, nor is it right, Master Artemus. You will be there, and you will participate as one of the faculty. I promise you I will take care of this. While your methods are…unorthodox, you most certainly are one of the strongest members the Guild. As far as the person who cut this rope, when we find him—and we will find him—he will answer to me." _

"Unless I find him first." The engineer bowed with her teeth gritted in pain as she held her back. "Thank you, Majesty. I'm…sorry about my outburst." Her face flushed under the grime on her cheeks as she stood up and added, "Nash has always been a good friend of mine—nothing more mind you—and well, I just feel I have to look out for him. Goddess knows he can't look out for himself. Typical man." 

Mia grinned at the brusque, yet seemingly truthful sentiment. "No apology necessary, Master Artemus. You have done so much for our city; it is wrong how people treat you. I can only hope that as we aim to open our doors fully, more of them come around. However, I will not have members of my Council acting so against my wishes, so know that Tamora will be dealt with, and know that I appreciate your efforts more than I can express—but please, don't fall down any more chimneys." 

Artemus gave a genuine smile, showing that even her teeth were black. "Well, I'm getting out of here while the gettings good and that healer freak isn't here to confine me to bed. But I'm taking the rest of the night off." 

Mia gave a serious look to the woman, "Please don't be afraid of Robin, or her methods. She is the best, and you certainly need to be looked at. You fell a good what—ten feet?" 

Artemus started to respond, but was distracted by the hurried reappearance of Gregory through the office door, with Robin in step behind him. The Healer just shook her head at the mess of a woman. "You moved. Gregory said you were flat on your back and that he told you not to move. Can you not follow directions, young lady?" 

With a grin, the brunette announced to all of them: "I don't know what all the fuss is about. I'll be fine after a few beers and a night in the sack with some guy who I don't have to remember in the morning!" 

Mia's face heated with color, Gregory laughed, and Robin just started at the girl in disgust. 

Robin's snapped, "I know I can't make you a lady, but could you have the decency to remember you are in the company of the Guildmaster and two members of the Council?" 

Artemus actually looked a little embarrassed, and muttered, "Sorry. But I am fine." 

"No, you are not. Falling such a great distance can cause serious injury, beyond the obvious broken bones and bruises. Just because you're afraid of healers is no reason for me not to do my job." With that, The Master of Healing Magic crossed her fingers and Artemus was immobilized. "And since you could not just stay put for the few minutes it took Gregory to find me, I'm going to make sure you _don't_ move until you can be properly examined." 

Artemus screeched, trying to move her suddenly stiff body, "Master Gregory! Majesty Mia! Please! Don't let her do this! She's insane!" 

Robin snapped her fingers and the patient fell asleep. Another spell, and the engineer was levitated, prone on her back as if strapped to a board. "That girl needs to appreciate magic—especially healing magic—if she intends to live in Vane." 

Gregory shook his head, chuckling as he reached out to lay a comforting hand on the engineer's immobile shoulder. "Either that or find a less dangerous profession." 

"Gregory, since I'm sure that you have nothing better to do, why don't you help me get her down to the infirmary? With all these ruff—people around, I don't want anyone to interfere with the stun spell." And then, with a wave of her hand, the Healer's patient floated behind her, the Illusionist following the two of them, clearly knowing he really didn't have a choice in the matter. 

Mia gave a tiny sigh of disbelief at the entire scene, and her entire day so far. Walking back over to the chair where Artemus had propped herself, she lifted the portrait off the seat and placed it back in the top drawer of her desk. With a reverent hand, she brushed away the soot and ash covering it as her lips moved in a silent prayer that someday, it would be once upon a time once again. 


	14. Chapter Thirteen

_If Love Were Only Part of the Equation _

Chapter Thirteen

_"Shallow men believe in luck."—Ralph Waldo Emerson_

The slip of paper had only given Gravitt one word, but it was more than enough. After snatching it from the floor and reading it, he crumpled it into a tight ball with a silent snarl and headed to where it told him to go—the Library. For some reason his contact had an infatuation with the place; it certainly wasn't his choice in a rendezvous, in fact it bothered him to even go into the so-called pride of Vane. While it concerned him that others might be there, he was more irritated at the fact of being recalled to it to truly consider this minor detail at the moment. 

The huge man sneered at the entrance to the Library. Tucked away on the second floor of Guild (perhaps so the mages could horde the knowledge it contained) it almost surprised him the place wasn't guarded. He despised even the concept of this place, reminding him again of the endless boring lessons he'd been forced to endure while his father had still lived, and he ever the respectful and obedient son. Although he had been here before, that time was at night, and he hadn't noticed that the gold leaf on the doors swirled into the pattern of the seal of House of Ausa. While this minute detail had passed him before, it wasn't a shocking revelation—the empty-headed Guildmaster seemed to have left her mark on every other place of importance in this opulent city. He growled under his breath; excessiveness wasn't something he enjoyed, particularly when it didn't belong to him. 

A single press of his massive palm swung open one of the ornate doors to the Library. Revealed within was the scene he had expected: young people engaged into books, some visitors wandering aimlessly about, and a plethora of people hovering around the center, gazing excitedly at an object he couldn't make out in the distance. Trying to remain inconspicuous, he picked his steps carefully, making an effort not to attract any attention even though it was at odds with his usual arrogant stride. Slowly, and quite methodically, he wandered back among the stacks, looking blankly at some of the empty shelves and growing more impatient by the second. _So where the hell is he? _

Finally choosing a spot near the very back row, he ripped one of the volumes off the shelf and put his nose in it, pretending to read the words. The language wasn't one he knew, but the markings seemed familiar for some reason, and that bothered him. Ignoring the feeling, he flipped the pages arrogantly, until the noise of a book being removed from the shelf behind startled him. Instinctively, he started to spin around and crouch to reach for the dagger in his boot, cursing himself for being so inattentive, but the command that followed froze him in his place. Such an order he was used to giving, not receiving, but something forced him to keep his eyes on the book as the words controlled him. "Do _not turn around!" _

Gravitt gave a loud grunt at the rasped command, held the book up close to his face and whispered harshly, "What do you want? You're going to get both our throats slit by taking unnecessary risks if you keep calling me to these stupid meetings." 

"Shut up, you idiot! You're who's taking foolish risks and will be the one to jeopardize our position! I'm not prancing around with the Guildmaster hanging on my arm and making sure everyone knows my name!" 

He snarled and started to turn around, but the voice again spat at him and he jerked back in barely controlled rage, the book nearly falling from his hand. The voice behind him hissed: "Control your temper! If anything sabotages this, it will be your complete inability to manage yourself like a decent human being!" There was a pause, as if waiting for his reaction, which came with the clenching of his fists and an almost audible grinding of his teeth. He had come too far and spent too much time on this to ruin it by reaping just the wrong kind of attention from the other people in the Library. 

The voice smiled behind him, clearly content at his reluctant compliance. "Now, you're ready for tonight?" 

"Yes. Like I've told you time and again." 

The response was coated in doubt. "Are you sure?" 

"What sort of idiot do you think I am?" As he snarled the rhetorical question he slowly turned to try and see who it was that thought they could play him for a fool. But this time he was in for an even greater shock as he looked into the hood of the person standing behind him. The voice had been distorted from the beginning, making it impossible to tell if the speaker were man, woman, or anything in between. But when he tried to look into the hood itself all that could be seen was darkness and a shimmering swirl of white mist. _A cloaking spell-- how unoriginal. Just one little touch… just one…. And all the questions will be answered. He fought back his irritation and curiosity, knowing that giving in to it would destroy all his plans. __Still…Somehow I know this is a female. No man would dare to do this to me. _

A short "hmph" was followed by: "Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to." These words seemed to fill him with a new rage and he started to straighten up and draw back a fist. Again he was reprimanded, "Don't even think about it!" Then without even a delay the other continued: "How long will the large ones take to charge?" 

"Taben said at least a week. Maybe ten days." 

"Do not use his name! Especially here of all places, you'll get us both killed!" 

"And don't speak to me like that! And who's going to hear us? I've seen more life in a tomb than in this place! Even with all these people around we are virtually invisible! Like a corpse at a funeral!" He glanced around. "Besides, this entire place is a waste of good stone." 

The other frowned; he could feel their glare even if he couldn't see their face as the other's voice snapped out in a harsh and barely controlled whisper. "You have no concept of what this place is, or what it means to this world! This room _is_ Vane! It has always been Vane and it _will_ always be Vane! We must preserve what little dignity and knowledge we have left before we are made to be extinct by mere commoners!" 

Gravitt grinned, and with a mused smirk muttered, "Taking things so personally will cost you in the long run." 

"Shut up you simpleton! You will not ruin this with your arrogance or with your stupidity! You will follow my orders as you were directed to and not make any decisions without my permission!" 

"And how do I know you are to be trusted?" 

"You don't, but I don't know about you, either, and with each interruption I begin to realize that I don't _want_ to know you! You are one of them, but you at least know your place!" 

Gravitt frowned, shaking his head as he returned the unseen glare. "I don't care about you or what you think of this pit of weaklings. As for what you think of me--" His laugh was cold. "Like it would make a difference between us? All I know is that I'd better get my prize once this is over. Four years of work—it better pay off!" 

"It will, I can promise you that. As for your prize…I assume you are referring to that brainless bit of fluff we're forced to call 'Majesty.'" The tone of the voice became almost musical under its shrouded rasp, "Don't worry, once I'm finished with her, she's yours. You'll like her when I'm done with her. No arguments, no backtalk, and certainly no problems. Just simple compliance." 

The huge mercenary grinned and flipped another page in the book, the ancient paper cracking in the process as a fragment of broken parchment fell to the floor unnoticed. "Excellent. Although I don't see why I can't have her before you do whatever it is you need to do with her." 

"For one thing, I need her to give me something…something she won't want to give me and can't unless--" The voice cut off abruptly and then snarled, "Do you even know how to read? Don't treat that book with such disrespect!" 

Gravitt stopped turning the pages, and growled audibly, barely constraining the urge to reach out and silence his partner forever. Snapping the book closed he reached up and shoved it back onto the shelf, not caring where it belonged or if might have knocked another loose from its place. 

Again the form seemed amused at his clearly forced self-control, and sighed, nearly losing its ambiguity. "Never mind, you don't need the details. Just accept my word that she'll be much more agreeable to your…proposition…after I've dealt with her." 

Gravitt grinned; this person might just trust him now, or at least trust him _enough_ to let something useful slip. With an obtuse air, he asked, "What do you want out of this anyway?" 

The voice turned cold as it began to preach what was clearly a much-practiced and self-righteous litany to him: "Mia is stupid, beyond stupid! She has never understood what Vane was nor what it needs to be today! This city, this room even, was the pinnacle of culture and the seat of education of all Lunar! What is it now? A pile of rubble stacked upon itself and polished up into a faint shadow of its glory. And even that shadow is soon to be made even less than that by just the quality of people she is allowing to meander through our gaping gates!" 

The voice stopped only long enough to catch its breath; "Our revered leader wants this place to become overrun with hicks, idiots, inferiors, and worst of all even those who are not Gifted! Such practices will cause magic to become a lost art among the masses, dare I say cheap parlor tricks for the slack jawed and ignorant to amuse themselves with! I've said it for years, and I'll say it again: this archaic dynasty should be--no, _must be--eradicated. The only thing keeping them in power is the Spire and a handful of blindly loyal Guild Members who actually seem to believe that mindless drivel! _

"All of them have been weak, pathetic rulers, more consumed by their romantic exploits than their appointed duties! There hasn't been a Guildmaster worthy of the title in generations! Relina spent her life pining for a man who left her, Lemia surrendered the power of the Guild to a madman, and Mia is more driven by her futile ideals and dreams than the reality that she needs to restore the city to its proper place of authority and dignity. Not some insane dream of equality! In a way it's a blessing she's not chosen to follow tradition and reproduce! It saves us from having to deal with yet another Ausa. These ideas of freedom and equality will be her undoing and end her family's grip on power forever—and once she surrenders the power of the city to me, we'll be invincible." 

Gravitt felt the conviction in the other's voice, even if he didn't understand all of the vocabulary. It gave him a feeling of undaunted hope—this would work. _Zealots always make the best villains, but they need to be watched._ So, he simply reminded the other, in an almost flat tone, "Even so, you best not hurt her, or you'll deal with me. And just to make sure, I'm not giving you the Key until I'm ready." 

It was a panicked reply that filled the space between them. "That is not an option! I must have it before we begin!" 

Gravitt felt his temper begin to heat, and forced it back down his throat. It was good to know he had something to hold over this person. "So you say, but remember, I'm not sure I trust you. You'll get it soon enough--when I'm satisfied that your end of the bargain has been filled. Maybe I'll have the chance to take her before you can finish your own end. Wouldn't that be entertaining?" 

The voice was a strange combination of desperation and hatred as the other roared back at him. "Haven't you been listening? She can't be hurt or touched, by _either of us_, or the whole thing is over before it's even begun!" 

He closed the cover of the book and put it back on the shelf, nonchalantly selecting its neighbor as his new prop. "Perhaps, but again, you also said there were no threats besides the Premier, and yet you hurt that engineer girl. She could have been an ally. Did you lie to me or just change your mind? That bit with the chimney was sloppy." He glanced around the enclosure for a second as though counting the many faces that might have turned towards them in curiosity after the other's outburst. "And who's doing all the attention grabbing at the moment?" 

The cloaked person actually showed some degree of annoyance at his observation. "I know it was. You'd think with enough murderers, delinquents, and thieves inside our fair city I could at least hire a capable one!" 

"You didn't answer my question! And what about the Council and the other Heroes? They seem more threatening than one magic-using fool or a little girl with a hammer!" 

It was a smirk-filled reply that came to his ears, "For all her base-born origins, that 'little girl with the hammer' is far too smart for her own good, and just another example of the trash that has been given the title reserved for only the most talented magicians. As far as the Council goes, I can certainly handle them, and the Heroes we will need to wait out, but Nash must be dealt with—if by some miracle he comes to his senses and alerts our precious Guildmaster, it will all be over." 

Repetition--especially unnecessary repetition--ate at Gravitt's last nerve. "Yes, you've said all of that before—although I doubt we need to worry about your Premier. The few words I spoke to him at the last reception proved to me he was incapable of any thought above than what color robe he was wearing. But the girl, doesn't she know this place inside and out? We could have used her. If _your_ shoddy assassination attempt hasn't put her on guard, she might still be valuable." 

"Its hardly worth the effort to talk to her about it—all you'll get is curses and rhetoric about magic being useless. A Master of the Magic Guild of Vane who refuses to use magic! Its incongruous!" 

"Huh? In what?" 

"Absurd! Ridiculous!" In a mutter the voice added, "Why was I selected to work with someone with a total lack of vocabulary!" 

Gravitt chose silence as he pulled another, smaller book from the closest shelf and flipped it open, his fingers curling around its edges in restraint. 

The other stopped their ranting tangent and, with an obvious effort, continued; their voice a bit more collected. ". "Please, don't underestimate Nash. He acts like an idiot but his opinion is highly valued here among many of the people, though I have no idea why. It's insane; he might even make a decent leader with a little guidance and direction. At least he has a few brains in his head, unlike Mia. Don't be tricked by him though; he's quite an actor, but why he chooses to play the fool is beyond my comprehension. Speaking of which, you said you had a plan for him. Now, there's rumor going around the Guild is that the woman you brought spent the night in his rooms, and that both of them walked out the next morning as happy as pigs and twice as healthy. That doesn't sound like a plan to me." 

A grin sprouted on the man's face as he stared at words in the book, trying to hide his delight. _She did? Oh, now that is amusing. "That's just the beginning. By dusk I promise his name will be as dirty as the floor of the stable. Trust me, its all part of my plan." The smile on his face was almost frightening--or would have been--had the other been in a mood to notice _

"It better be, and you will give me the Key the next time we speak. No questions, no arguments!" The other hesitated a moment, "Your plan? Goddess, spare us from the plans of idiots and dreamers! Never mind, just have that damned Key ready for me! That's all for now. I'll let you know again when I need to talk to you again, and next time don't be late!" 

Gravitt heard a book behind him slide back into place, but when he turned around, his friend was gone. _Most definitely a woman…they are so particular about being on time and always disappear when it suits them…_

******

It took every scrap of self-control that Gravitt could muster not to let his rage show as he worked his way back to his room. His stride was rapid and discordant as he tramped down the long empty hallway, and his fists were clenched to prevent him from _accidentally _smashing something or someone. He was about to rip his door off its hinges, when he looked at the next entryway and a sneer slowly spread over his face. After being belittled by his associate, the least he could do was to vent a little misdirected anger on the person he despised the most. 

He raised his fist, preparing to slam down onto the door and demand entrance but then paused, the cruel smile growing wider and showing his teeth. _No, she would expect that. __Maybe I should make it even more fun. He lowered his fist, and gently knocked down towards the center of the door as though he were a much shorter, weaker person. _

The response from within was musical—a gentle, yet excited call saying she was coming. He could hear her feet dance across the stone floor, over the rug, and then back to the marble near the entrance. _I wonder which of her suitors the slut thinks I am? The Premier or the Tribesman? _

Sabre's expression, as she opened the door, began as a smile--one that quickly vanished as she took in his outline and vicious smirk. In that instant he could see that she knew he had predicted her every thought before she had opened the door. He held her eyes as he marched past her, looking around for the boy. "Where is he?" 

She glanced at the privy, and opened her mouth to speak, but he didn't give her chance.

That second she looked away he grabbed her wrist, knowing that her reaction would be as instinctive as it was unstoppable. As she turned to glare at him he saw the shock and hatred flash in her features as her talent, her curse, snapped out at him against her will. 

She squirmed in his grasp, her arm glowing in the dark burgundy color of her aura as it flew out of her and into him. He hissed in pleasure as her blue eyes pressed tightly closed in pain, and her head shook violently as he drained her power out of her. Of course it wouldn't hurt him, but just the fact it would make her violently ill was enough enjoyment to compensate for the incident in the Library. 

It was with a devilish smirk, he gratified himself with thought that had another person done this; he would have wound up flat on his back or worse, while he didn't even feel a tingle. She whimpered in agony, so he squeezed her wrist harder, until he could feel the thin bones begin to bend. Then, with a harsh laugh, he grabbed her by the back of her hair and forced her to look at him. _I can't risk leaving any obvious marks…yet _

He leaned over her, knowing his height intimidated her more than anything. In a ferine whisper he spat into her ear: "I hear you've been working fast, Sabre. Why, you're the talk of the town! Imagine, my little slut found her way into the bed of Vane's newest Premier! I'm sure he's quite a step up from that Tribal piece of shit I caught you with last night!" 

The woman's reaction was stronger than he had anticipated; the loathing smeared on her face he had expected, but the ice in her eyes was colder than it had ever been before. He liked getting that sort of response out of her, so he stabbed again. "I wonder how he broke you? With gloves like your 'lover' or some form of higher magic?" 

Sabre didn't blink as she let her frozen hatred peer out from behind her soul. He smiled at her; it was so wonderful to have her full attention, and he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass. He released her mane and just held her with his gaze and words. "I see, you are choosing to keep that tidbit to yourself for now, that's okay. Tell me now, tell me later. You'll have to tell me eventually. Now, I just have to wonder why he'd bother to step down to you, though? Do you think the women of Vane are so boring that he'd degrade himself to, well—you? Although to your credit, I must say that you do live up to the Tribal tradition of being wild in the sheets. Perhaps he just wanted to test that theory for himself." 

Her voice was small but direct, as he saw her fight the pain he had inflicted. "I didn't sleep with him. Now what do you want?" 

He sneered at her boldness, and snarled, "What I always want and the only thing you're good for, my little whore!" Taking a step back from her and using a much more cheerful and faked voice, he called, "Darian! Come here! We're going to meet some people!" He forced a grin. Keeping the child trusting him was a top priority. 

The boy called from the privy. "Okay Gravitt! I'm coming!" 

The woman nearly fell to her knees as the last bits of color left her face. He smirked as he calmly brushed his dark hair back into place. It was too much for her to be drained and then robbed of her child, and he knew it. 

Darian bounded out of the small room and up to the man as he asked a barrage of questions. "Can we go down there? To the street? Can we buy things?" 

He smiled at the boy, answering all of the inane queries with a single phrase, "Of course we can." 

Darian smiled from ear to ear. "Can Mommy come?" 

Gravitt was sadistically pleased that Sabre knew the answer well in advance and she knew that he would expect her to voice it. Her voice was shaky as she obviously held the tears back. "No, sweetie. I have to do some things. Now go with Gravitt and be a good boy." 

The little auburn haired boy nodded to her and ran past them toward the door, the sound of his energized giggling irritating his father and clearly worrying his mother. 

As he reached for the doorknob, the child called happily, "Don't worry Mommy. We'll be back soon!" 

Gravitt gave Sabre a wink, and couldn't resist echoing the boy's words in a tone that he knew would make her shiver. "Oh yes, don't worry, Mommy. We'll be back soon." 

Her eyes were half hooded in hatred and exhaustion, but he wasn't through with her. Not just yet. Leaning back over her, and flipping her fire-hair up off her neck, he licked her from cheek to ear before adding in a most malicious whisper: "I'm proud of you for anticipating my desires. Keep our new friend close." 

*******

Gravitt led his son down to the Festival, impatiently winding his way through the crowded streets and only barely in control of his temper. He hated crowds—there were always too many knives to his one back. Still, he was sure that he'd garner some attention from the right people there, and the boy would make him more approachable. What he didn't anticipate, however, was Darian's insatiable curiosity. The child's wanting to stop and look at everything he saw, then try to touch most of it, was costing him valuable daylight. He hadn't planned on purchasing anything from the vendors, nor wasting so much time watching the demonstrations, but certainly couldn't make an issue of it with the child in public. So, with a well-rehearsed and utterly false grin of good nature, he took up his son's hand and allowed him an arm's length of freedom to enjoy Vane's Festival. _He is easier to deal with asleep, I long for the day I can be rid of him forever… _

Everything fascinated the little boy. Street games, magic demonstrations, merchants and their wares, and even an old man standing in front of a group explaining the history of Vane. Gravitt recognized him as one of the members of the Council with whom he had shared a table only two nights before. The man's name was Gregory, he was sure. His audience was held captive by his stories, told in a conversational but clearly educated voice and illustrated by images produced in puffs of smoke and small globes of silver light that appeared from nowhere and floated around the gathered crowd. 

Darian jumped up and down trying to see over the person in front of him, and after a moment of irritation, the child darted away. Gravitt looked around, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. He forced a growl back down his throat as he moved through the congregation of people listening to Gregory._ I'm going to tan his hide for this, and then that miserable bitch of a mother as well for raising such a disobedient little… _

It was only a moment later that he spotted the child. Down the street a little ways, amidst a group of dancers stood the boy, his eyes transfixed on the people's movements. Before Gravitt could get to him, however, a little blonde girl tagged him on the back and ran away. Darian stood still, looking utterly confused. The girl returned just as Gravitt walked up, and he decided to just watch for a few moments, since something told him it would be to his benefit. 

The girl reached out and tapped the Darian's shoulder again. As he gave her a blank stare she became obviously aggravated with him. "You're supposed to chase me!" 

"What?" 

"I tagged you! You're supposed to try and tag me." The blank stare from the little boy made her ask, "Haven't you played tag?" 

Darian shook his head, the mass of hair atop it flopping with the action. 

The girl put her hands on her hips and squinted at the boy, her long beast ears twitching under her blonde hair as she regarded him contemptuously. "It's a game. I tag you, then you chase me and tag me." 

"Oh," Darian shrugged, looking at her face. "You have funny ears." 

"No, _you do. Mine look like my Mom's and my Grandaddy's. My Dad has funny ones, though. Like yours. Must be awfully boring for you." _

Gravitt grinned from his position behind them, and decided not to interrupt just yet. He knew this girl, and smelled an opportunity to get some more positive attention. 

The little boy just stared at her. "Oh." With that, he reached up and tugged at one of his ears, as though trying to make them longer like the girl's. 

She smirked at him, "All you say is 'oh.' What's your name?" 

"Darian." The boy mimicked her irritated pose, "What's _your name?" _

Before the girl could answer, there was a sudden flurry of tiny wings as a small, white cat-like creature hovered over their heads shrieking, "Kyle! Kyle! She's over here!" 

The boy screamed as he pointed at the animal, "What is that!?" 

She sighed, "Its not a what, it's a who. It's Nall." Then her voice fell and a touch of worry crept out. "My Dad is going to be soooo mad." 

Gravitt knew it was time to act, and with a grin, he stepped up to the children, took Darian's wrist in one hand, and touched the girl's arm in the other. In an amazingly musical voice he called, "I've got her, don't worry!" 

It was the girl's turn to shriek, "Lemme go! Who are you?!" 

Nall continued his shouting, not noticing the commotion below him as Darian spoke over the noise. "S'ok. This is Gravitt. He won't hurt you. He's just kinda big." 

The frantic child settled down at the other's reassurance, and within a second a black haired man just about Gravitt's size burst through the crowd. He scrutinized the mercenary for a moment then realized that he was holding both children with little actual pressure. With a word of thanks, he picked the girl up, despite her rebellious squirming. Then with a grin, he looked up to Nall. "Tell Alex I found her." 

The creature stuck its tongue out, as it flew away, "Yeah, _you found her." _

With a shake of his head he asked the little girl, "Kalyn, what were you doing?" 

"Trying to play tag." 

"Trying?" 

She pointed at the other child, who had taken to hiding behind Gravitt's massive legs. "Darian don't know how to play." 

"Doesn't," he corrected her. "Doesn't know how…." Kyle said, almost in disbelief of himself. As he shifted the girl's small weight to sit on one of his large arms, a smile formed on the lips of the Hero as he turned back to Gravitt. "Kids just get away from you, you know? Anyway, I owe you one." 

"It was nothing. In fact I was just chasing my nephew down for the same reason." 

The black haired man regarded him again with a kind face, "Aren't you that guy who gave Mia a lot of money?" 

It took all his strength to feign a look of embarrassment. "Guilty as charged. I mean, I'm just one of her many admirers. There's a lot of us in the Stadius Zone that support Majesty Mia and her cause—for many it means the opportunity of a lifetime, to be able to come to Vane and study without being treated like cattle." 

Kyle flashed a toothy smile. "I can imagine. They didn't even want me here when I was helping them. I was just another barbarian at the gate, or worse… inside the gate. But I know Mia will change all that—she already has—and people respect her for it. Well, most of them anyway. Too bad her city had to fall down—I know that hurt her more than anything." 

Gravitt nodded. "Yes, that was truly a tragedy, even if it did prevent a larger one. However, I have faith that perhaps there is hope for Vane to fly again." 

The Hero gave a dubious look as he shifted his daughter's weight to rest on his broad shoulder. "Well, it never hurts to dream big, I guess. At any rate, I knew you looked familiar. But seriously, thanks for all you did for her. She's a good person, and a great friend. I only wish we could have done more, but Meribia has its own problems right now, although my wife will be the last to admit it." 

Gravitt nodded and gave a bow of his head. "It was nothing." 

"I hope you'll be sitting with us again tonight," Kyle said as he offered his hand. "I've decided that the only real men at our table are you, me, and Alex." He gave a wink, "Maybe Nash—but that one's always been up for debate." 

Gravitt shook the Hero's hand and gave a snicker at the mock-insult. As Kyle walked away, a feeling of victory saturated him. _Luck is with me today._

Such a feeling was fleeting, however, for a moment later Darian noticed something in the trader's cart behind them. The child's dark eyes grew wide with glee as he tugged on Gravitt's sleeve eagerly. "Look! Gravitt! For Mommy? Please? Can we buy it?" 

The huge man squinted at the object that held the boy's attention. It was a simple bracelet made of tin with characters he couldn't read pressed into it in crooked letters. The owner of the cart stepped around the front of his cart, his dirty brown hair plaited with black and blue tribal ribbons. He smiled at the boy. "Ah, such a lovely gift for a mother." 

Gravitt scoffed at the horrible craftsmanship of the object as well as its filthy peddler. "It's poorly made and I don't even need to ask the price to know you want too much." 

The little bracelet captivated Darian, and the seller used it to his advantage, just as Gravitt had expected he would. "For the child, I'll sell it for twenty silver." 

The mercenary was irritated, but not so much at the price. Parting with his silver for himself was one thing, and buying the child's trust was acceptable, but having to purchase a 'gift' for the slut all but made his nostrils flare in hatred. He looked around at the other traders, trying to find a way out of this, and asked the child, "Wouldn't you rather buy a toy?" 

Darian shook his head emphatically. "No. Mommy's sick. She needs a present." 

The Tribesman smiled, knowing he had the sale. "Such a selfless child, so sincere, so caring. I haven't seen that sort of kindness in Vane all week. I'll drop the price to fifteen silver." 

The child's face lit up again as he looked to Gravitt, those dark eyes begging him in a way he absolutely detested. As if prying a sword from the cold hand of a corpse, he reached into his pocket, and produced the money. "Ten is all I'll give you, and you should be happy with it. It's twice what it's worth and you know it." 

The merchant grinned as he took the payment, and a moment later the pathetic piece of tin was in the boy's eager hands, as his eyes flitted with wondrous excitement. 

Following this reluctant purchase, Darian's squeals of delight proved to be more than enough for Gravitt. So, after giving the boy an empty promise of a swift return to the festival, he led the child back to the Guild, trying to ignore both the boy's laughter and the sales pitches of the many vendors along the way. 

Once inside the massive Atrium, he could not have asked for a better scene. Standing in the center, framed by the two flying staircases was Mia and her entourage. Three of the Council members flanked her and four guards stood at attention just behind them. The mages were engaged in an intense and, unless he missed his guess, rather heated discussion. He recognized all of them by name and discipline—being placed at the Head Table certainly did have its privileges. The only one missing was the sour-faced blonde woman, but she was useless to him anyway. 

To his delight, Mia looked up and called him over. It was a relief to leave Darian (and the object which would keep him busy) on one of the many ornate couches a few feet away from the group. He gave a stern word to the boy to stay put, and then stepped up to the mages and bowed respectfully. 

The Guildmaster told her companions, "Let us get a fresh perspective on our dilemma." She gestured to the large man as he bowed. "You remember Gravitt of Briggatt?" 

Tamora gave the new arrival a cold glance and then rolled her eyes, discreetly enough for Mia not to notice, or at least allow her to ignore it. "Pardon my forwardness, Majesty, but someone who does not live here cannot possibly understand the situation." 

The raven haired woman gave a quick smile to her advisor and responded curtly, "Well it seems that those of us who _do_ live here can't seem to fix it, either." She nodded to the slightly heavyset man on her left. "Master Alastair, if you would?" 

Alastair sighed and spoke in the quiet voice Gravitt remembered all too well from the last reception. It was a tone of age and tiredness, but there was still some resolve behind all of that—resolve he didn't like. "Majesty Mia is concerned that all of her guests will not be able to join in the feast in the Atrium. The number of people has nearly doubled from only two nights ago. She does not wish to dismiss anyone, nor does she want to have two seatings for dinner." 

"To show equality, I presume?" Gravitt asked as he glanced back to make sure Darian was still on the sofa. 

Mia nodded, her lips forming that angelic smile that could calm anyone. "I want everyone at the receptions. Cost is not an issue. I want them to see that they are welcome and having some eat before the others would give the wrong impression." 

The pretty brunette interjected, "Perhaps, Majesty, that is why so many of them have come. They have heard about your… generosity." The long pause in her statement clearly showing she had wanted to use a much different word. "I strongly suspect that most have come only to take advantage of the free meals. It would fit in well with the nature of… rabble." 

The young woman glared at her elder, "That may be so, Master Tamora, but no matter their intentions or their origins, I do not plan to compromise my convictions, or break my promise to my guests." 

Gravitt grinned. Something was definitely on his side today—fate, luck, something. "May I suggest you move it outside, then? Perhaps it is not normal for people from this city to dine out of doors, but where I come from, it is a special treat." _And it will make my presentation all the more spectacular…_

Mia beamed. "That sounds like a wonderful idea!" She turned to her elders, "Is it possible?" 

Gregory said, "There's plenty of space and the stone tiles around the plaza will help keep everything from getting too messy, or at least keep it from turning into a mud bath." 

The Master of Attack Magic snorted, "And it's completely unprotected, not to mention wide open to the elements." 

Gravitt paused for a moment, glancing back towards the brunette with a calculating look in his eyes. _She's going to be trouble… _

Alastair rubbed his chin, "A simple reassignment of the guards would take care of most of any security concerns, Master Tamora. As for a magical attack, I could fasten a spell to whatever jewelry you intend to wear tonight, Majesty." 

The Illusionist smirked at the suspicious woman, his eyes telling of his mischievous nature, as he interrupted her before she could speak again. "As for the weather, well… you are so talented with controlling things, like the elements, Tamora, don't tell me would hesitate to practice that gift now? If you don't think you're up to a few simple weather spells I'm sure Master Nash would oblige." 

The glare that the woman gave Gregory would have withered hardened bronze, yet the grin on his face didn't waver in the least as he awaited her response. It came in a soft, sweet voice, but conceded a bit of defeat. "Thank you for offering the services of your son, but I am fully capable of providing the necessary weather magic." 

_This old man is the Premier's father? I highly doubt that. _

Mia beamed at the group—even Tamora. "This is wonderful, but I'll need to get the word to the kitchen staff as soon as possible." 

The Master of Illusion Magic turned to the others, and started giving orders. "Master Tamora, if its not too much trouble, could you take care of that? Then inform the students who will be serving tonight? Let's get them moving tables and chairs outside." 

The woman nodded, but she was obviously not happy about the plan, much less to help initiate it. With a clenched jaw, the brunette gave an irritated wave of her hands and in obvious disgust stomped up the stairs—presumably to take care of her assigned tasks. 

The Guildmaster looked at the departing woman with sad eyes. "I hope she'll come around." 

The Illusionist apparently couldn't resist the urge to try some humor. "It takes time to teach an old mage new tricks, Majesty. Just give her some time." 

Mia didn't smile—she just kept watching the woman climb the stairs, her robes dragging behind her as if they were some sort of undesired burden. 

Alastair frowned, his wrinkled face held in deep thought. "We may need to ask some of the merchants to relocate out of the plaza. They may not be happy with that." 

Gregory gave a playful wink. "I can handle that—Al, just worry about security." 

The portly man grinned at his friend. "I'm sure you can. You could sell a lame horse to a Tribesman!" 

"Only if it had good teeth!" 

_Idiots. No wonder my contact isn't concerned with these people. _

"We'll need lighting, too." Mia said quietly, interrupting the moronic banter between her trusted advisors. "I had forgotten about that." 

Gregory gave a quick bow. "Definitely not a problem, my child. Alastair and I might be able combine our efforts and leave quite an impression on all of them." He turned to his counterpart, "Do you suppose a few guards could be spared to erect some tall poles around the plaza? Say ten to fifteen spans apart? They would need to place a pike on the head of each pole." 

The other man nodded with a smile. "I think I know what you mean, old friend. But I don't know if I have the personnel. What about Artie and her group?" 

Mia's voice was full of concern, but backed with resolve to make this work. "Artie is taking the rest of the day off, on Robin's orders. Use some of my personal guards—I don't need them at the moment." 

Gregory shook his head, "No. I'll find people. Don't worry about it." 

"Where?" Mia asked in confusion. "All of the apprentices and guards are working double shifts. There's simply no one left. I insist you take the ones assigned to me and have them set the poles out. Sometimes I think you worry about me too much, Gregory."

"Worry is the one thing I do well, Majesty." 

"Indeed." 

Gravitt bowed, knowing when it was time to act. "If I may, gentlemen, I am not busy this afternoon. I could easily watch over Majesty Mia for a few hours so her guards can assist you." 

He felt Alastair's blue eyes search him and heard a tinge of doubt in his voice as he spoke. "I don't think anyone would attempt anything against a man of your size, Gravitt, but I leave the choice to Mia." 

_This man is a joke._

Her smile was all the answer they needed. "Then it's settled." 

Gregory gave a quick, disapproving, shake of his head, but it went unnoticed by the naïve woman. 

With a perceptible sigh, Alastair turned to the four guards standing a few feet behind them. "Jared, you heard Majesty Mia. Go get the others." One of the sentries departed up the stairs, and the Master of Defense Magic sent the others to collect the pikestaves. He started to follow them, but then looked back to Mia, "Don't forget the jewelry, Majesty. I don't want to take any chances."

"Of course. I have it here." 

Gravitt grinned as she removed the star sapphire from her neck and placed in Alastair's palm. "This will be it. A gift, from a very dear friend." 

The old man took it and after a moment's glance at the beautiful stone smiled and carefully tucked it into his vestment pocket. The glare from his illusion-making counterpart, however, spoke volumes as though he had watched the gem give birth to a serpent in the mage's hand. As Alastair put it away, Gregory turned and looked directly at Gravitt, an out of place but very compelling frown on his face. It wasn't like any frown he'd seen before; it was so eerie and calculating, and worse, there was something almost inhuman about it. The mercenary couldn't help but see the expression, but even as arrogant and immune as he was, he found he could almost _feel it. __Don't look at me like that! With one slice of my sword, your pathetic life would be over! _

It was as though the Illusionist had read the thoughts behind his eyes for a second later, the old man's stern voice echoed in his head. "Be warned, if you should choose to bring harm to _my city_ or _my Guildmaster_, I promise your regret will last far beyond this life." With that silent warning the other turned and left, marching out of the Manor with such strength in his pace that it made Gravitt forget his age. 

Shock filled the huge man. No one, ever, had been able to force magic upon him—except this mage. He almost stumbled over, but Mia touched his sleeve, and helped him regain his balance. 

"Are you all right?" 

"Yes, quite fine," he replied, recovering quickly and turning the charm back on. "Now, I'm supposed to stay with you for an hour or so. Is there something you'd like to do?" 

She smiled, "Actually, yes. Something I haven't had time for in weeks." 

******

A few minutes and some many confusing steps later, Gravitt found himself standing inside a small room on the north wing of the third floor. Trying not to be seen, the Guildmaster had led him and Darian up some back stairs, and then around many an ubiquitous corner to their destination—the Tea Room. 

Many things about Vane puzzled Gravitt, as they would any outsider to the Magic City. But having a room set aside for no other reason than sipping tea made absolutely no sense to him. As far as space went, it was tiny--with only a few couches and chairs placed in a wide circle, though all were exquisitely carved and embroidered. Tables set between the seats held books, papers, and other articles the mages of Vane seemed to hold in high regard. On the far wall, facing out into the street, there were large windows that opened to a balcony, much to Darian's delight. However, it wasn't any of that which caused the trouble-making grin to form on Gravitt's face--it was the portrait hanging over the fireplace on the western wall. _Yes, Lady Luck most definitely slept in my bed last night…_

Mia smiled as she lowered herself ever so gracefully onto one of the couches facing the fireplace. "I wish the faculty would use this room more often. I had hoped it would bring them together—although I admit that at the moment I am grateful for the solitude." 

"I can imagine." He glanced over at the boy, who was preoccupied with staring out the windows—his nose pressed to the glass of the doors. _Why does he do that so much?__ And why does it annoy me like this?_

Trying to retain his gentlemanly air, he walked back to the door where the teacart had been set. "I suppose if we're in the Tea Room, we need some tea?" 

Mia chuckled, "Yes, we do. The pot should be warm—it always is—we have magic for that." 

With a grin of pseudo-good nature he replied, "Of course you do." _You'd waste it on brewing tea._

She glanced over at Darian, as if noticing him for the first time. "This must be your nephew? I think I met your sister in law earlier." 

_She is incredibly unobservant for the ruler of one of the largest cities in the world… _"Yes," he said, and then called, "Darian, come here." 

The fluffy haired child ran up to him, the maddening tin object still in his hand. "Are we going out again?" 

"No. I want you to say hello to someone." He motioned the boy over to Mia, and then continued pouring the tea. 

The boy scampered up to the woman and his adorable face all but melted her as he whispered, "Hi." 

Her expression was tender as she looked at the little boy standing before her. "Hello there. My name is Mia." 

Darian twisted his entire body from side to side as he said, "Hi Mia. You're very pretty." 

She responded with a giggle in the range of that of child's. "Oh, you're so sweet, Darian! Thank you." 

"My Mommy is very pretty." 

"I know. I met her earlier today." 

Darian held up the weak excuse for a bracelet. "I got her this." 

Mia smiled at the boy as she examined the trinket. "It's beautiful. I'm sure she'll love it." 

Once the gift was back in Darian's hands he just smiled at her and said, "Yeah." 

Just as he had anticipated, the Guildmaster couldn't resist the child's charisma. "Oh Gravitt, he is so precious! Since he's here with you and just his mother, I assume his father is away on business?" 

The big man frowned as he placed the warm cup into her hand. He crossed to the large glass doors and opened them, forcing a grin at the boy. "Darian! Come here! Look!" 

Mia took a tip of tea, and tilted her head ever so slightly to show her curiosity at his action. The child obeyed, and in a moment was looking up at him with wide eyes. 

Gravitt made a conscious effort to try and be as paternal as possible, even going so far as to bend down on one knee. "I need your help, Darian. I want you to stay here, behind the stone rails and when you see Brinson, come tell me. Okay?" 

The boy nodded, and began his 'watch' as the man slipped back into the room. He took a cup of tea (even though he detested the stuff) and sat next to Mia, being careful to let a tired sigh spring from his lips. 

"Is everything all right?" She asked, warming her tiny hands on her cup. 

Gravitt shook his head, "Pardon the solitude, Majesty, but it's for his own good. His father is dead, and I don't like to bring up the subject in front of him." 

She gasped, "I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Oh, the poor child!" 

"Yes, well, its all right. I was hoping to enlist your aid along this line anyway." 

Mia tipped her head again, the black curls almost forming question marks as her expression showed clear concern. 

"You see, to be honest, I have never truly believed that Darian actually is my nephew. His mother was married to my brother, there's no question of that. But it is quite impossible that the boy could have been his son. Still, I do not press the issue since he's already been through so much." 

At Mia's puzzled expression he explained in greater detail. "I'm afraid my 'dear' sister in law is not as chaste as she portrays herself—most Tribals are not, it seems. In fact, most appear rather proud of their—shall we say—conquests?" 

The woman's face turned bright red. 

"Do not be embarrassed, Majesty you are not responsible for Sabre's indiscretions. However, I have a confession to make, and this is where I would like to ask for your help." He paused, watching her eyes flitter as she timidly sipped at her tea. Then, with a faux nervous cough he continued, "I brought Darian here for more reasons than just the Festival. I hope to find his father." 

"Here? In Vane?" 

"Yes, to this very day my…. 'sister in law' still brags about the mage she… 'met' in one of the towns outside the Prairie." The frown on his face was well practiced and did its job of impressing Mia, as he had hoped. "It happened some four years ago, hardly a month after she married my brother. Anyway, I came here to find the child's true father, I believe he owes the boy more than just the horse." 

The word nearly choked in the Guildmaster's throat as she fought not to spit up and spill the tea she'd just begun to swallow. "Horse?" 

_Perfect. "In Nerak, last December. The man was there and he gave Sabre his horse as 'compensation.' I don't know who I'm more disgusted with: her for accepting it, him for thinking that was all he owed the child, or the fact that they both thought he could buy his honor so cheaply." _

Gravitt followed Mia's icy stare to the portrait of the Five Heroes hanging above the fireplace. Her face twisted in thought and then in a strictly female rage. '_Oh yes,' he thought to himself, as he struggled with only limited success to hold the thin smile of victory from his face. _

She surprised him then, when she beamed him another flawless smile, and then asked simply, "Tell me, Gravitt, what color are you wearing tonight?" 

_Ah, so even the reserved, regal, and dainty Mia Ausa is not above a little spite! _Although knew where this was going, he played dumb. "Blue, Majesty. Why do you ask?" 

"So I can dress to match—if you do not mind." 

He bowed his head, "I would be honored." _Oh yes, the stars are with me today. _

******

Gravitt ushered Darian back up to his room, the conquering smirk that had manifested on his face only seconds after Mia had left under the escort of a member of her guard still shining bright. Either the fates were with him or the empty headed Guildmaster was more gullible than he had planned, but his promise to his associate had been kept, and that gave him a sense of closure on top of a wicked kind of fulfillment. 

The door to Sabre's room was ajar, so Darian just darted in, but he waited a moment before following the child. He was startled as he heard his son's high-pitched shriek as the child apparently spotted someone he didn't know. 

"Where's Mommy? Who are you? Gravitt! _Gravitts!!"_

By Darian's reaction and the perversion of his name, the man knew something wasn't right. He pushed on the door and raised an eyebrow at the cause of the boy's screaming, which had now escalated to screeching, "Where's my Mommy!?" 

It was Nash. 

Standing in front of the closed door to the privy was none other than Gravitt's personal project himself. The short mage stared at the child for a moment, a softness spreading across his face. Turning away from the door, he bent down to the hysterical and crying child. "You must be Darian." 

The boy looked at the man, clearly surprised that he knew his name. "Where's my Mommy?" 

The mage looked up past the nervous boy to Gravitt, but didn't get up as he nodded towards a closed door. "She's in there. She's ok, but she's a little sick, ok?" 

Darian nodded, and settled down a bit, but then cocked his head and looked the man square in the eyes. "Who are you?" 

Gravitt smirked. Some strange power was definitely aiding him in this effort; the resemblance between the mage and the little boy was uncanny. If he hadn't known otherwise, he would have believed his own ruse. 

The mage hesitated a moment but replied with a charismatic smile, the water running from within interrupting his train of thought, as he stood up and looked at the door with some kind of distinguished worry in his features. 

The red head emerged. Gravitt was pleased to see her looking so miserable. Her eyes were pink from the tears, and her face spoke of many unpleasant moments spent vomiting. 

Darian dashed towards his mother, and she smiled at him, but looked charily between the two men. Whatever she was thinking, Gravitt would have paid a handsome sum to know, but the boy broke the silence. "Mommy, you're ok, right?" 

She nodded. 

The child pulled on her sleeve, and said in one continuous breath: "Who's the man in the dress?" 

The redhead forced a laugh as she gave a gentle look to the mage, much to Gravitt's annoyance. He wanted to see her hurt some more. "That's Nash. He's a friend of mine, and its not a dress. It's a robe. People who use magic wear them." 

Darian scowled, "Even boys?" 

Nash grinned as he lifted the heavy burgundy robe at his waist kicked a leg out to convince the child, showing his black pants. "Yeah, even boys. But we get to wear trousers underneath." 

"Even girls?" 

Nash gave a wink, "You'll learn what they have under theirs when you're older." 

Sabre glared at him, as the entire scene produced a truly honest laugh from Gravitt, quite possibly the first one in his life. 

"Oh." The boy turned to his mother, "I wanna wear a robe." 

Sabre looked wounded, and a strange silence held. Finally Nash turned to Gravitt. "We met at the last reception, but I'm afraid I didn't know you knew Sabre so well. It makes me happy to know she's been in good hands." 

Gravitt formed a large smile, and it almost hurt his face to do so. He gave a bow to the mage. "Ah, she's family. Where I come from that's more important than anything." A glance to the side yielded a most gratifying moment: the expression of vehemence on the woman's face was priceless. 

Nash gave a nod, not noticing Sabre's reaction. "Agreed. I'm worried about this sickness, though." 

"It's nothing," she snapped. 

The short man waved a finger at her playfully. "Oh, now don't you give me that. I promised I'd help you, _diantha_, and I will." 

She shook her head, covering her eyes at the word. 

Gravitt just smirked. _Oh, it was all simply too perfect._

******

The reception was just like the last; not even the seating at the head table had changed. Facing out to the other guests, they were elevated on a small platform with guards positioned at each end watching the crowd with caution and a bit of suspicion. _At least someone seems to know what their job is around here. As before, Mia sat in the center, flanked on both sides by five people. To her left was Nash and then the rest of the so-called Heroes, on her immediate right was his place, and the Council filled the last four chairs. _These people are such creatures of habit…___ that just makes this all the easier for me… _

The table conversation wasn't anything Gravitt was interested in—small talk mostly and boring beyond description. To his right sat Gregory, and then the ever-irritatable (and irritating) healer woman he didn't care to remember from the last party. She constantly gave disdainful glares in his direction and then scoff to whomever was in earshot. Judging from the smirks on their faces it was clear she wasn't handing out compliments. The Illusionist didn't seem all too pleased with the woman's comments, or Gravitt himself for that matter, but did nothing but smile about it. Gravitt grinned. Whatever else he was supposed to be, and he had some major questions there, the old man seemed quite subservient and knew his place—even if he did give dirty looks in Atriums. At any rate, he didn't seem to be in any position to cause more trouble. While the incident earlier had given him some momentary worries and concerns, he quickly passed it off as little more than some sort of fancy ventriloquism. With a smirk Gravitt also noticed that while Mia didn't say much to Nash, she made a concerted effort to at least seem pleasant, although her gaze told of something that went far beyond standard hatred. _Why play politics when lover's quarrels are so much more entertaining? _

The boredom of the formal dinner seemed unending as envoy after merchant after diplomat, after… endless, dull and unimaginative speaker droned on and on about how 'happy' they were to be there and how 'wonderful' it was that Vane had returned in all it's glory. Finally, just as he began to fear it would never happen, the meal ended and Gravitt sensed his moment had finally arrived. With as subtle a wave as he could manage, he motioned for one of the guards and whispered to him a request, and the password needed, to fetch one of the carts that had caused such a problem earlier in the day. A span of ten nerve itching minutes passed for the huge man, and even the idiotic banter of Vane's Finest couldn't squelch it as he felt that last of his patience slip beyond his control and he began to frown openly in frustration. 

As the wagon was brought into the city and pulled into the square, it quickly caught the attention of everyone and the cacophony of whispers from all of the guests brought an anxious grin to his face. Mia stared at him in surprise as he stood up, and whispered into her ear, "If you would, Majesty, could you please call their attention so that I may present you with your gift." 

Her violet eyes sparkled with childish anticipation Mia smiled and an equally childish giggle broke from her lips as she turned and addressed the Illusionist. "Master Gregory, I need your assistance." 

The old man smiled, and knew exactly what she meant as she stood up. A whispered spell fell from his lips as, with a small gesture, a mysterious black mist appeared and wrapped around her throat. With a smile she nodded to the old man and spoke, her voice echoing across the large plaza, "My friends," was all she said, and the noise immediately stopped. "Please allow me to interrupt you for a moment. One of our guests of honor wishes to speak to you." 

Gravitt walked off the platform, keeping his eyes on the head table—none of which, save Mia, seemed especially pleased with him. With a grin, he gave an exaggerated bow towards her and the distinguished people sitting by her side, and then turned to give a much smaller one to the assembled crowd. 

"Good people," he said, his voice carrying surprisingly well above the din, even without the assistance of a spell. He continued: "My friends, many of you do not know me, so I will tell you my name. I am named Gravitt, and I am the ruler of a small mining city on the Southern Continent called Briggatt. Years ago as a child I traveled here with my father to conduct some trades and I was fascinated by this beautiful place. I wanted to stay and study magic, but due to the entrance requirements, I could not. You see, good people, my family carries a curse, one that renders us immune to magic and all its effects. For more generations than I can speak of we have been denied the gift…the honor…of wielding magic and thus, under the laws at the time, I was not welcomed here." 

Gravitt took a pause for effect and to examine his audience. The Heroes all seemed politely attentive, except Jessica for some reason. With a raised eyebrow, she tried to stare him down, so he gave a wink in her direction, just in the hopes to irritate her and he smiled slightly at seeing the tactic work.. The Council members were much more intrigued; Gregory shifted in his seat as his expression became mistrustful, Robin gave an arrogant snort, Tamora leaned back in her chair, clearly bored, and on the end, Alastair kept a scrutinizing eye on the cart.

A second later the blonde leaned over and whispered into the Illusionists' ear, but he said loud enough for Gravitt to hear: "Shh…let's see what he has to say before we pass judgment on him, Master Robin. Though I begin to share some of your…concerns." 

The mercenary turned back to face Mia and the head table and continued. "However, while my visit was short, there was one person who made me feel welcome, and now I plan to repay that debt of kindness and to her." 

While the crowd seemed about as receptive as the head table, he knew he had the person's attention that mattered the most when color spackled the cheeks of the smiling Guildmaster. 

"That said, I am more than honored to have been able to in my own small way help rebuild this wondrous city. But that is not enough, for I owe one far more than that. Thus, I am even more honored to bestow this gift upon you and your people, Majesty." 

As Mia soaked up the false admiration, Gravitt gave an irritated glance at Nash, who had started to rub the rim of his glass with his finger, making it sing. Alex (who was seated next to him) gave him a slight push, but that didn't deter the Premier from his adolescent antics. Finally, the Guildmaster whispered something at him and the noise stopped. 

No longer distracted, Gravitt managed to keep from smiling too hard in his already claimed victory and clasped his hands together as he circled around the cart, reaching out to run his hand along its wooden side. "As I was saying, a few years ago, some of the workers in the mines of Briggatt found an unusual stone in the bottom of our deepest mine. I had it examined by one of the greatest mages in the Stadius Zone, and with his help and that of others, I have been able to modify the stones such that they can help you." He pulled a small silver canister out of the cart—one only about the size of his forearm—and placed it on the table in front of Mia. 

The Guildmaster reached a hand to the container and lifted it, commenting on its beauty to the other members of her table. Gregory analyzed the canister as she did so, his hand starting to reach out towards it before being quickly pulled out of his grasp as a grimace formed on his aged face. 

_Oh, don't you ruin this for me, old man. _

Gravitt had his audience now, and it showed. He stepped back from Mia and pulled two more out of the cart, placing them on each end of the large table. As the guests admired the tokens, Gravitt grinned, "Ah, yes they are beautiful, especially the test cylinders. But they also have a function, and keep in mind that these are smaller than the real ones, for ease of demonstration." 

He turned back to Mia's guests. "Now, if you can set the tubes on the table, I will need the assistance of a powerful magician." Ignoring Gregory's response as Mia's ornate silver tube was set before him he continued, "Majesty, could you might select one for me?" 

Mia turned to look down her table to the left, and then to the right. Her gaze stopped exactly where he knew it would—Nash. Before she could ask him, however, Alastair stood up. "Allow me." 

The Guildmaster nodded to the old man, and then Gravitt gave his instruction. "Cast a spell on the canisters. Any kind. It doesn't really matter what it is just so long magic is involved." 

The Master of Defense Magic nodded, closed his eyes, and began to whisper to himself. As the spell formed, he held his palms flat out towards the nearest tube and a burst of white light surrounded it and its brothers. Nearly blinding the entire party, and causing many members of the head table to shield their eyes, the magic oscillated against each of the canisters and then suddenly disappeared. 

Alastair stared at his hands. "That should have sealed them. What happened?" 

Gravitt smirked, "Oh, it takes a moment, but—" 

The abrupt racket of his gifts trembling interrupted him. Each of the small tubes burst forth with a bright emerald luminance from underneath, washing the entire table in a pale green light, and then, as everyone's mouths hung open, the canisters leapt into the air a good ten feet, over the table. Slowly they began to circle around each other as their soft green glow reached down to envelope the table below it and, shuddering slightly at first, the heavy wooden slab began to slowly rise upwards until it too hovered in the air just below the now rapidly spinning cylinders. 

Everyone gave a panicked look to Mia. She was sitting there as prim and proper as ever, staring heavenward at her banquet table floating above her head. He could see the hope sparkling in her violet eyes, reflecting the hovering jaded object. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a smirk form on Tamora's mouth, and with a snort she said, "Parlor tricks! Cheap parlor tricks! Why even the most inept student can learn levitation! Observe!" 

The Master of Attack Magic clasped her hands and all of the guests at the head table and their chairs found themselves sitting at _their table—floating ten feet in the air. Squeals of delight and some cries of fear from the audience filled Gravitt's ears as his triumphant smile spread across his face. It was with more than a touch of annoyance that he noticed that none actually seated at that now floating table had spoken a word or let their surprise slip beyond a startled expression or two. _

Mia shouted from her place in the air, "Master Tamora! If you don't mind! I have come to expect more of you than from any inept student!"

Apparently the woman knew defeat and was all too familiar with reprimand. With a scowl she broke the spell and safely guided everyone back to the ground. 

Gravitt didn't miss a beat. As soon as the occupants of the head table hit the ground he continued his lesson. "You see, Majesty. These stones absorb magic. It takes a rather large amount of magic to start them, but once they are activated, they are able to absorb all they need from the stray ambient magic in the air around them to remain aloft. They are quite harmless, but I suggest not touching them once they start glowing." He paused and gave a devilish smile, "So I guess you want to know what this means." 

"I think we know what it means," Tamora supplied. "But there is no way in Althena's name that a simpleton like you or anyone you could possibly know would ever be able to master such magic. This is totally impossible and you must think we're all idiots to expect us to believe even an instant of..." 

The Guildmaster snapped at the woman, not letting her finish her tirade. "Your opinion was not asked for, Master Tamora." 

No one moved. They all just turned and stared at Mia, who seemed to be holding her own breath. It was a perfect finish, even down to the sharp scolding of the wary and indignant Council member. With a shake of his head Gravitt firmly grasped the moment of triumph he felt and, as the gathered crowd held their silence transfixed on him, he bowed again. "I suppose you have guessed what your gift is now, Majesty. I have brought you canisters large enough to raise the city of Vane to its former glory in the skies."


	15. Chapter Fourteen

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation**_

Chapter Fourteen

_"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." _

_ -Arthur C. Clarke _

Gregory and Darshak were the last two people Artie expected to find knocking at her door the morning following her less than graceful descent into Mia's office. They both offered a respectful greeting that clearly showed neither of them had volunteered for this, but were there under orders. Artie gave a wane smile as the Captain of the Guard handed her a note that read: 

_Master Artemus: _

_Robin has informed me that you left the infirmary against her wishes early this morning. I hope you are feeling better and that your recovery is indeed a speedy one. I am hoping you can help me with a small matter. We will need to move the ceremony on Saturday outdoors to accommodate everyone. Could you please design and order the construction of a stage for the Plaza? Gregory will be able to provide you with information on the ceremony itself such that you will have a better idea of what is required. Since I know that you are still incapacitated, I am sending Darshak to assist you in anything that you might need. Also, I will be having a meeting this afternoon that I would like you to attend providing you are feeling well enough to do so. If not, please send Rouke in your place. _

_Thank you again for all that you do. _

_--Mia _

She raised an eyebrow at the two of them and ushered them inside, somewhat glad that she now had something to do rather than just 'rest.' As incompetent as some of her workers were and as used as she sometimes felt, doing nothing was boring. She motioned for them to sit on the couch and then grabbed some of Robin's healing bark, paper, and pencils off her desk. 

Darshak coughed, "Would you like us to give you a moment to change out of your bedclothes?" 

Artie shrugged, and looked down at the pants and shirt that had belonged to one of her brothers years ago. They were very comfortable; roomy and just perfect for sleeping in. "I'm fine. You got a problem with this?" 

The guard just shook his head although the expression in his eyes showed he knew a no-win situation when he saw one. 

She didn't grace it with a response, but instead stuffed a strip of bark in her mouth and began chewing it as she turned to Gregory. "What do we need?" 

"You need to be careful with that and not use too much," the Illusionist said. 

"Yeah, I know, Robin told me that too. But I'm still a hurting puppy. She said a little would ease the pain, but that too much would--come to think of it, she just said something about no one noticing the difference." 

Gregory sighed, "Just don't overdo it with that stuff, and I'm sorry we have to bother you like this. I trust you're doing better." 

Artie nodded. "I'm all right. A few bruises and a lot of aches but I'll heal. Hell, I've had worse hangovers. Now, tell me about this ceremony." 

Gregory nodded and outlined how the entire thing worked. It was actually pretty simple: a procession, a swearing in and then a recession. The Faculty didn't sit up on the stage, so it could be made small enough for just the Council, but would require stairs along the front. It seemed easy enough; she even thought her workers could handle it without her direction. _Well, maybe I shouldn't give them that much credit... _

The work must have refreshed her (or the bark was working just a little too well) because in less than a half an hour, she and Gregory had a basic tentative design for the stage. She held the sketch out to him, "Sorry it's kind of messy. I can do it on the board with the straightedge if you want, but this should give them a rough idea." 

Gregory looked it over, "As long as it's got the dimensions on it, they should be all right, don't you think?" 

She snorted in disgust as she handed it to him. "I'll do it anyway. We don't have much time for screw-ups on this one. Plus I want to check the sightlines, so I'll need to make it to scale. But either way, Mia should approve this before I order construction. Just in case she changes her mind—again." 

He smiled and tucked it into his robe. "I'll deliver it to her right away." 

Artie stood and stretched. That bark was really working. She didn't feel much of anything. "If you wouldn't mind, but what about the furniture?" 

"I'll find some people to move it." His face clouded, as he rose to his feet. "Your staff is already worn thin, and something tells me they're going to have even more to do after this afternoon's meeting." 

Artie raised an eyebrow, but before she could ask about what he knew, the Illusionist pressed his palms together and vanished, leaving behind only a thin wisp of black smoke. 

She looked at the guard. "I hate it when he does that." 

Darshak gave a wide grin, but remained silent. 

Artie now had a real project to complete, and she wanted to do it, but she wanted to do it _alone_. Drafting required a great deal of concentration, and she was quite particular about her work environment. Having someone constantly staring at her was unnerving; she wondered how Mia put up with it all the time. For a moment she toyed with just ordering him to leave, but unfortunately the members of the Magic Guild Guard were tied to their duty with such tight bonds that she knew it was pointless to even ask. 

Trying to ignore his presence was difficult, but she still had work to do. She took a seat at her desk and moved the crossbow she had recently named her best friend to the side. The guard raised a curious brow, but knew it wasn't his duty to question and again stood at attention. She took out her drawing equipment from the desk's drawer and attempted to start work. She felt his eyes on her but after only three minutes, she just couldn't take it anymore. She asked him to leave, but he said his orders were explicit: He was to take care of anything she might need and he wasn't backing down. Artie cursed under her breath. 

She tolerated him for another few minutes, until an idea came to her. Feigning frustration at her drawing, she shook her head and then sighed. Then, with a calculated smile, she turned to him as she said; "I need you to go get the exact measurements of whatever chairs Gregory plans on using for the stage. All dimensions. Find one of my guys if you aren't sure what I'm talking about." 

Darshak looked at her doubtfully, but still gave a bow and left. As the door closed, Artie grinned to herself and put a new piece of bark in her mouth. _That should take him…oh at least a few hours!_ She drew a line against the straightedge and then blew the extra graphite off. Finally. Peace and quiet. 

She sighed as a glance to her left showed that her crossbow was still just inside her reach. Perhaps sending Darshak away wasn't the smartest thing to do, especially in these times. Oh, she was used to people not understanding her or (in many cases) just plain not liking her, but that someone would want to kill her was unbelievable. Well, perhaps not unbelievable, but just not likely. She did have enemies, but they were social 'nose stuck in the air' or political 'you have no business being here' types and certainly nothing that justified murder. Most of that animosity came from people who had been against her appointment to the rank of Master, and Mia had silenced them years ago. So then, who was out to get her, and why? 

Trying not to think about it was worse than trying _to _think about it_,_ so she bounced the pencil in her hand as she started to dissect yet another possibility. The pencil jumped from her grasp and rolled onto the floor under the chair. Even under the influence of the bark, she wasn't going to try and twist herself down to get it. Cursing again, she pulled the straightedge off the drawing and pushed it within her reach. Just as her fingers curled around it, someone knocked on the door. 

She knew it was probably just another one of her workers looking for his day's assignment or wanting to report that so-and-so hadn't shown up for his shift. So, without a thought of regret, she bellowed: "Unless you're inviting a painful death or just want to be castrated, go away!" 

"Artie," a familiar, near-pleading male voice called. "Please open the door." 

She knew who it was, so with a grin, she gave the response and instructions as if she were talking to a child. "Nash, you have a key to every lock in the building. Take it out of your pocket, insert it in the lock, turn the key, lift the latch, and let yourself in!" Unable to resist the temptation to mock him, she added: "Unless such a process is too complicated for you!"

After a moment of scratching and fumbling, the door swung open. As he stepped through it she decided that he looked even worse than she felt. His hair was matted, his clothes rumpled—this was certainly not the Nash that paraded himself through the halls of the Guild. He looked as though he hadn't slept in days, and she noticed that he was carrying some kind of large object under his robe. Before she could say anything, he gave a final and very suspicious glance out into the hall before closing the door. 

She still just stared at him, still in shock at his appearance. She stood up and took a few steps to the couch. "Nash, what's going on? Have a seat. You look like you just saw death itself." 

He nodded, sat down, and then he looked at her, his dark eyes gaunt and haunted. "I'm starting to wonder." Then, after a brief hesitation, he continued; "I know you're off duty, and I know you're hurt, but I need your help, Artie. I really do." 

She sat next to him and smiled, her voice gentle, "Hey, we've been friends for awhile, so you'll just have to owe me another one… add it to the pile, I guess. Besides, I need an excuse to move around." 

"I heard what happened. Gregory said you had a nasty fall, but that Robin says you'll be fine, though she was pretty upset at the way you checked yourself out of the clinic." 

"Yeah, if she leaves me alone, I'll be fine, and if I find the nut who's trying to kill me, I'll be great." 

"What?!" He asked, the shock in his voice almost bringing the life back to his eyes. 

"Someone cut the rope. I don't know why anyone would want me dead, but it's got me a little nervous, y'know?" She glanced over at her crossbow on the desk. "I'm not taking any chances." 

He nodded, his eyes distant again. 

She raised an eyebrow, "But that's not why you're here. What has got you so spooked that you suddenly look like you're fifty?" 

With a sigh, he reached into the inner pocket of his robe and pulled out a slender cylindrical canister about a foot and a half long and handed it to her. "This. I need you to tell me what it is. I think we are in big trouble, Artie. If I'm right, then Mia may be about to get us all killed." 

A tinge of fear leapt into her at both his words and just the feel of the object. Artie began examining it; the material was silver in color, though with an odd bluish tint. She flicked it with a finger and determined it to be hollow; although the object was light; she wasn't familiar with a material that could be made _this _light. She turned it upside down and discovered a bizarre pattern of small holes, set slightly offset from each other in a waving pattern around the base. The array was strange, but symmetrical. Her fingertips traced the smooth, rune-engraved sides up to a tightly sealed lid, its almost invisible seam running around the rim of the canister. 

She frowned, "Where did you get this? I've never seen a material like it before, and I don't recognize the writing either. Granted, I slept through more of my ancient language courses than I should have, but I'm sure they never taught this language when I was a student here." 

"A man who calls himself Gravitt has them—a whole bunch of them. There's something else, too. He gave Mia a necklace that was made of the same metal, or at least it looks that way. Gregory told me that there is something wrong with it, though." 

"Did he know what was 'wrong' with it?" 

Nash shook his head. "He didn't say—I don't know if he doesn't know or just doesn't want to tell me. Anyway, I'm more worried about these canisters." 

"Gotcha. On a side note, I don't like this Gravitt creep, personally," she said as she unscrewed the small cap and looked inside, a soft emerald glow emanating from green crystalline stones within. "He gives me the crawlies. I ran into him in the stables, or rather, he ran into me and tried to schmooze me. Did you see his eyes? They're silver—a pure, soulless, silver." She looked back down to the strange cylinder. "And what does he want to do with these? They seem harmless enough, unless they're magic." She paused and glared at him, irritated she had to remind him of the obvious. "You know that's my weak point." 

Nash was preoccupied with the discussion of magic. "There's magic involved, but it's not just magic. It feels different. It feels like the Old Magic—magic I last felt when I was…well, a long time ago." 

She glared at him, "Finish your sentence." 

It was a pitiful reply that came from his lips, one filled with self-reproach. "When I was working for Ghaleon, and he introduced me to that Taben man." 

"The guy who built the Grindery?" 

It wasn't even a syllable, but more of a mournful grunt in response, "Yes." 

She put a hand on his shoulder, "Hey, we all know why you did what you did. We're all allowed to do one stupid thing in our lives. That was yours. As opposed to acting like a jerk, which you're allowed to do all the time, it seems. Love is always a noble cause, even if its actions are all screwed up." She paused for a moment, surprised to hear something so nearly philosophical coming from herself. 

He gave weak, hesitant smile towards her. "Thanks, Artie. I think." 

"Hey, no problem. You know me, I'm always glad to point out your flaws for you." A grin and wink took the edge off her words, but he still looked hurt. She turned back to the business at hand. "What's with this 'Old Magic' crap? I though Magic was Magic?" 

Nash shook his head. "No…and it's not something that we really study here, even in the post-graduate classes. It's what it sounds like, old… very old. It was the magic of the First Ones--the magic that created Vane and maybe even Lunar itself. Until I met Ghaleon, Taben, and the rest of the Vile Tribe I thought it was just part of the old myths. No one knows much about it, or how to control it. The only other person I've ever heard mention it was Gregory, and that was just in passing. It was like he didn't even want to talk about it. From what I saw of it, it certainly doesn't follow the same rules as our magic of today. I'm not even sure it _had_ rules. All I know for sure is that it's powerful—horribly, horribly powerful." 

"What did Gregory say about it?" 

"It was a long time ago, when I was up for my apprenticeship. I had already accepted Gregory's offer, and then to my surprise, Ghaleon asked me. I told Gregory—I thought he'd be proud of me—but he was more shocked than anything. Possibly even hurt--"  


Artie cut him off, her voice more sarcastic than bitter. "Yeah, a lot of people were suddenly not good enough to be your friends when you started paling around with Ghaleon." 

He'd said it to her many times before, but must have figured once more couldn't hurt. "I'm sorry, Artie." 

She smiled, "I know. Fortunately most of us forgive and forget." Then with a wink she gave him a playful punch in the arm, "But I still think you're a schmuck." 

He winced at the comment more than the punch as he replied wryly, "Thanks." 

"Anytime. Now, you were telling me about Old Magic?"  


Nash rubbed his face as he spoke, not once meeting her eyes. "I remember Gregory warning me about it. I'll never forgot what he said because it was so eerie 'Don't get caught in something you can't get out, boy. The magic that man practices isn't always natural, and certainly isn't fit for a human to try. Even if you do survive, you'll lose your soul to it.' Needless to say, I didn't listen, but when I saw some of those spells, I knew what Gregory had been talking about." 

"Such as?" Artie asked as she replaced the cap on the canister. 

He hesitated, but the words wrenched themselves from him. "Well the Grindery for starters. It was powered by Dragon Magic, and had enough power to blast us out of the sky. How they managed to capture the dragons to begin with was unreal. It was a spell that pulled them and their souls into hand held prisons. Then they were released and wired to the machinery by Taben, and their magic used to move the Grindery and fire its cannons. It consumed them in the process." 

"That's…that's just…wrong." 

"I know. And that's not all of it. Ghaleon had many spells—" 

"Like the one he used on Lemia?" 

Nash nodded. "That, but also I saw him practice one on a Tribesman." 

Artie looked at her friend—he nearly shivered. "What was it, Nash? I can't help you unless you explain all of this." 

"When we were in Tamur, he and Royce showed up and asked if I was ready to make sure Alex and the others didn't make it to the Frontier. I told him yes, and he assured me again that in exchange for my help, Mia would be safe. Then Royce said that I wasn't reporting as often as I should, and she suggested that he give me a 'demonstration.' Ghaleon grinned with this crazed look in his eyes. In all the years I'd known him, he'd never smiled, so I should have known something was wrong. 

"He led me outside and we approached a man from one of the Prairie Tribes, who obviously had some degree of magical ability. Royce asked if the man had ever considered going to Vane. Of course the man shook his head—people from the Prairie weren't welcome here at the time. Then Ghaleon told the stranger who he was, and promised that if he gave us his assistance, he would be initiated into the Guild. The Tribesman nodded and followed us out of the town and into the Prairie. 

"Ghaleon had him stand a good eight or so feet from the rest of us, and then began a spell I'd never heard before. It was in a strange language, and took him a good minute to cast. When he unleashed it on his target, the man's aura was ripped from his body—his life, his magic, everything! Then it came back and settled on Ghaleon, while the man's body just dropped to the ground." Nash took a breath and then said, "But that wasn't all. He used the man's powers right in front of me just to show what he could, and was perfectly willing to do." 

Artie stared at him blankly, "No one should have that kind of power." 

He nodded, "It was sick, and it scared me into keeping up my part of the bargain. I can't believe he killed that man like that, but I knew it was a message for me." He paused, "But you know, sometimes I wonder if he wasn't planning on using that spell on Althena herself. If he had, he would have been invincible." 

"I don't want to think about it." She said quickly, and then looked down at the canister again. "Anyway, so what does Gravitt have this for? What does he want to do with it?" 

He shook his head as he spoke, his tone again full of dread, "I think he is going to use them to make Vane fly again." 

She gave him a dubious look, "How much wine did you have last night, Nash? There is no way this small canister is going to raise the city of Vane. I doubt even the Spire can do that." 

"It's not just one, Artie. He has a whole caravan of them—and this is just what he called 'demonstration' size. I liberated this one from his wagons, and I imagine the others are as large as buildings, just judging from the size of his carts. I wanted you to look at it, because his demonstration was so convincing that Mia and the rest of the Council are eating out of his hand." 

"Demonstration?" 

He nodded. "The canisters are not self-activating. The stones inside need to absorb magic—magic being actively used." 

Standing up, she put it on the table in front of the sofa. "Here, cast a spell on it. Let me see how it works." 

Nash nodded and pulled her back with him a good six feet from the mysterious container. His eyes closed as he concentrated, whispering the chant under his breath and then crossed his fingers as he pointed them at the cylinder. His yellow aura flashed as the magic materialized and blazed towards its target but just as it was about to strike, it vanished—as though the strange object had swallowed it up. 

Artie narrowed her eyes as the canister started to shake, the concealed stones creating a high-pitched wail within its confines. The thing trembled, then pushed itself off the ground to swiftly fly up near the ceiling. Suddenly, the table itself shook and followed, taking an orbit just under the cylinder. The objects hovered above Artie and Nash with a barely audible drone. 

"Holy shit," was all the engineer could say. 

Nash turned his gaze from the softly glowing object back to her, "My thoughts exactly. Now, how does it work?" 

"Thrust," she said softly. "It's a concept called thrust." She gave him a wink, "Something I thought men were supposed to know more about." 

He rolled his eyes at her, the crude joke even forcing him to smile through his depression. 

Artie didn't miss a beat. "Anyway, the stones become agitated by the magic as they absorb it. I would guess they could only store so much before they become full and have to…" She looked at him before finishing. "What spell did you use?" 

"A shock spell, a rather strong one." 

"Right, so they filled out quickly. To shed the excess magic, the stones shake. The canister shakes, then the magic pushes against something—I don't know what—and the excess is forced out the bottom through the holes, I guess." She stepped under the hovering canister and, reaching around the table spinning below it, raised her hand to feel for any disturbance or breeze coming from either of them. "I'm not sure what it's thrusting against though. Nothing seems to be coming out the bottom but it's sure as hell pushing against _something._ Anyway, the result of this upward thrust action is the lift action." She pointed to the table. "And it seems they exert this lift to whatever is under, or next, to them." 

He nodded. "Gravitt said the stones would need to absorb magic constantly to maintain the altitude of whatever it is we want to levitate. He also said that once activated they would just use the ambient magic of Vane—magic that would otherwise be wasted or lost to the environment. Does that make any sense?" 

A frown crossed her face. "While it does make sense, I don't trust it. I assume Mia just went along with everything he told her?" 

Nash's eyes were morose as he spoke, "Yes. You know this is her dream, Artie. Sometimes I think she is so blinded by it that she can't see beyond it. Maybe we aren't supposed to fly anymore; there isn't a Goddess anymore, and there isn't even a Goddess Tower to protect." 

Artie nodded but was still staring at the table and the thing that was floating above them. Strangely, the green glow from the canister had started to fade. "Are they supposed to lose light like that?" 

He shook his head; "I don't know what's normal on these things. But last night I don't remember that it did. Of course, spells were being cast left and right." 

"So it stayed charged. Interesting. Capacitance at its best." 

"What?" 

"Never mind. Engineer talk that is literally above your head." She grinned, "So where does Gravitt intend to place the large ones you said he has?" 

"He said we could put them outside the wall and a few inside the city." 

Artie looked back up to the canister as it began to shiver, it's whine descending back to an irregular and grating sound. The table began to slowly drop, as if invisible wires were lowering it from the ceiling, the silver object trailing with the same degree of grace. When the container was within his reach, Nash extended his hand towards it, possibly to help it land without damage. 

It was too late for Artie to protest. 

Just as his fingers folded around the silver tube, a faint band of green light struck out of it like a snake attacking an oblivious mouse. Artie heard her friend scream in shock and watched in horror as the distinct yellow color of his aura was forced to appear. He tried to let go, but somehow the canister wasn't letting him. 

The next shriek was clearly one of pain as Nash shook his arm violently, trying to force the threat off of him, but it was no use—the canister was not giving up. It was eating his life, magic, and perhaps even his soul. 

In that moment Artie forgot the pain in her back, her legs, her chest, and every other part of her body that was black and blue. With a cry of defiance, she used all of her weight to knock the short mage to the ground. Lying over him, and daring not to touch the silver tube herself, she grabbed his hand that held it slammed it into the floor. Once. Twice. Three times! Finally, the canister jumped from Nash's grasp and flew above their heads to the place where it had been just moments ago. 

Artie's breath was coming in short, gasping pants as she rolled off her friend. After making sure he was still breathing, she poked him in the side. "Get up. You're not dead." 

"You saved my life," he said simply, as he pushed himself up to his knees. 

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes." 

Sitting up he smiled weakly at her, "Thank you, Artie." 

She just nodded, trying to not get wrapped up formalities as she sat up. Her body was shaking more from the shock and horror of what she'd just seen than exhaustion and adrenaline. Staring again at Gravitt's Gift, she said in trepidation: "It drained you, Nash. It didn't just absorb your magic; it sucked it right out of you. Hell, it almost drained the life right out of you, like some sort of Vampire." 

They looked up at the now brightly glowing tube, now feeling more than hearing it's high pitched cry. Nash got to his feet and tried to brush his hair back into place. "That thing—it could have killed me—but why didn't it affect you?" 

Artie shook her head. "Not enough magic in me to be worth the effort, I guess, and unlike someone I _could name,_ I wasn't dumb enough to try and touch it while it was still active. I don't know, and to be frank, I don't care. That man Gravitt is a liar! Now I'm sure he's up to something--something terrible--and Mia's apparently bought his story hook, line, and sinker. She'll get us killed, if we're lucky." 

Nash didn't answer her. 

The engineer glanced back up at the hovering container. "Look at that thing, even after draining so much out of you, it's starting to lose power again. Putting those things everywhere and then letting them sap us will destroy all of the magic in Vane." 

"And kill every one of the mages before the city can even start to move," he added. 

Artie got to her feet and made her way back to her desk. The adrenaline and bark were wearing off now and the pain coming back in spades. She shuffled through the desk drawer for some more of Robin's medicine. Her hand tripped across a silver light she kept for experimental purposes. As she shoved the bark in her mouth, she tossed the small silver orb to him. "This will make you feel better, I'm sure." 

Nash caught it and used it, smiling as his power returned. "Thanks." 

She didn't even bother to nod. There were other things to be said, and she wasn't one to hold back. "You've got to tell her, Nash. You've got to convince her what you and I both know is the truth! That this whole plan is a lie, and suicide for all of us." 

He immediately flopped onto the couch at her suggestion. "She doesn't listen to me, Artie. We don't even talk anymore. Maybe you should be the one to tell her." 

She walked back to the sofa and sat down next to him, giving a wide berth and a very wary look to the still floating tube and the table as they began their slow decent back to the floor. After another bite of the bark, and she spoke softly: "You two need to start talking." 

Nash didn't respond. 

"I'm sure you've heard this from a number of people, but let me tell you something as a friend, all right, Nash?" 

Nash gave her a skeptical look as he slowly nodded his head. "All right, I guess. It's not like I could stop you anyway." 

Artie sighed, "If you want to act like an asshole in private or mope to yourself about Althena-knows-what, that's your affair, but--" She cut herself off as she saw him flinch as if struck and tried a softer approach. "Look, whatever happened between you and Mia is your business, and your business alone. I'm not about to get into that—although everyone around here knows what happened. Small town, lots of talk, all that. Anyway, it should not affect us, the citizens of Vane who look up to the two of you for leadership. And that's just what its doing. And like it or not that's just what it is doing every minute of every day. Everyone knows what the two of you did to save us all, and we also know it was the two of you who really rebuilt this city. We all know full well the two of you can handle the impossible, and that's the reason we follow you both. 

"But this idiotic nonsense that's going on between the two of you makes no sense to me and even less to 'them.' Nash, you and Mia became the heart and soul of this place during the rebuilding, and right now the city hasn't had a heartbeat in months, and it shows!" 

Nash grimaced, "I've tried to keep everything on a professional level…" 

"Don't give me that shit! It might work on Gregory, or some of the others, but it doesn't work on me! If you were acting professional, you'd be in her office right now telling her what trying to raise the city will cost her and us!" 

"I tried that, Artie. I went to see her before I came here, and she refused to talk to me." 

"Why?" 

"She wouldn't say, but I caught a glimpse of Gravitt in her office." 

Artie sighed, "I like Mia, I really do, and I respect her talents as a leader and as a mage. But you know, and I know that her judge of character is far too generous sometimes. And I'm sure Gravitt—if that is his real name—is taking full advantage of that." 

Nash nodded, but his tone was still pitiful. "I'm sure he is, and since she was so angry at me this morning for heaven-knows-what I know she won't listen to me. But you might have a chance." 

She whacked him on the arm. "Are you paying attention or do I need to smack you around some!? Of course she'll listen to you. She didn't give you the position of Premier because you look cute in the outfit! Because believe me, you don't! She gave it to you because she knows she can trust you and in spite of all your faults you do give a damn about this place, and about what she wants for it!" _ _

He actually seemed to let it sink in before replying: "I hope you're right." 

She smirked as she rose from the sofa. "I know I am. It's one of the gifts that go along with being female." 

He gave a slightly lop-sided smile to her, "Oh really?" 

"Yup," she said as she tossed the used bark into the wastebasket. "And now give me a few minutes to put on something more presentable and we'll get to work." She walked to her closet and took out a pair of workpants and a shirt then disappeared into the privy, but left the door cracked just enough such that she could talk to him. 

"Are you sure you shouldn't be in bed?" 

"I'm fine, and we got a mission now, so I can't let a few bruises get in my way. First off, we need to find out all we can about this Old Magic, those stones, and Gravitt. Once we have enough ammunition, we can give it to Mia. Then she'll have to listen, even if she's pissed at you for whatever reason." 

"All right. I'll talk to Gregory." 

"And I'll look in the library," she said as she slid the clean shirt over her head. "I'll also ask that Brinson guy about Gravitt. He said he works for him." 

"Ok." 

Her tone was teasing as she pulled the pants on, "Although from the rumors that were sliding around the infirmary, it seems you are more than just friendly with that crazy redhead that almost ran me over with that monster horse. I heard she's part of his group too. Maybe you could umm…pump her for information?" 

"Its nothing like that, Artie." 

"Yeah right," she said as she emerged to find him holding an article of her clothing rather dubiously. It was a dress—bright red, brand new, and the first of its kind to ever have found its way into her room. "What, you want to try that on? It'll probably look better on you than it does on me." 

He gave her a smirk and a small laugh. "I didn't know you had it in you." 

She grabbed it from him. "I don't, but I don't really have a choice if I want to be at your ceremony and party on Saturday." 

He gave her a blank look. "I thought everyone was going to wear their black robes?" 

As she shoved the red dress back in the closet, she snorted, "Yeah, well see that's the problem. First Tamora said I shouldn't be involved since I'm not really a member of the faculty. Mia supposedly straightened that one out. Then yesterday while I'm flat on my back in the infirmary, Robin told me she couldn't find any robes that would fit my 'boyish figure.' Her words, not mine. So I say the hell with them! They don't want me in Faculty Robes, fine! I'll wear a dress and shock everyone." 

Nash didn't look very happy. "That's not right, Artie." 

"Yeah, well what am I going to do? Tell off two members of the Council? I've done that before and it's gotten me nowhere fast." 

"No, but I am," he said with a smirk. Then in a very fabricated businesslike voice he added: "So you need robes, Master Artemus? I think I have a solution to your problem. I certainly will not have any need for my own, as I have been instructed to wear something rather more ornate. Since we're close to the same size, I imagine they'll fit you without much problem. As such, I'll see that they are delivered to you before Saturday." 

She grinned, "You know, this will make me the envy of all the women of Vane." 

"How's that?" 

She flicked at his bangs as she gave him a wink, "Because I'm going to get into your pants!" 

****** 

After ridding herself of Nash's presence by sending him to search for Gregory or Mia (whichever he could corner first) Artie debated whether or not she would need the crossbow to just go to the library. Strange things were going on, and she had the sinking feeling that more would be following. Still, she knew how the sight of her striding down the halls with a weapon would be seen and she reluctantly left it behind. If Gravitt or whoever was truly working with him felt they were being watched, they might get nervous and do something stupid, and if that happened, a crossbow would be of little use assuming that damn cylinder was any indication. So, with just a handful of the bark which had dulled out all of her pain (not to mention providing a touch of very out of place euphoria) she went out her door and down the hall, making her way to the library. 

She had not gone far when she saw a familiar form step from the communal shower just ahead and turn to walk down the hall away from her. She fought an open laugh as she realized that he seemed to be wearing nothing more than a towel tossed carelessly over his shoulder and draping down his back. With a mischievous grin she called to him, "Hey Blondie!" 

Brinson froze and jerked the towel from his shoulder frantically trying to cover himself, as if he just realized that he was exposed. With a face so red his glasses almost steamed, he turned and whispered, "Hi Artie." 

She wasn't going to let the opportunity to give him a once over, or to rub it in a little, slip her by. So with a broad grin she exaggerated the way she let her eyes wander over him, obviously enjoying the sight. "Let me give you a tip; we don't walk around here like that. Most people bring an old robe or something with them to the showers. Not that I'm complaining, mind you." 

He just smiled; clearly embarrassed she had caught him nearly naked. 

"What's wrong? Trust me, you don't have anything I haven't seen before." 

"Nothing," he said as he took a few large steps towards his room. Looking around warily, he answered her in a tight whisper: "I don't think I should talk to you right now." 

"Who's going to stop you?" 

He tried to quiet her with a "Shh!" as he glanced at a nearby door that was propped open. 

Now she was irritated. "Don't you hush me! I'm not the one showing the world my goods!" 

He shook his head at her, and mouthed 'I'm sorry—please, not now.' 

As he turned, she glanced at the door he'd been standing near, and stepped towards it. She heard him fumbling with the lock to his own room, as she saw what had apparently spooked him. In the room that he had nearly ran past was Gravitt, smirking like a twice-fed cat as he sat on the bed pulling on his shoes She looked at Brinson with a puzzled expression, but he avoided meeting her eyes as he pushed his door open. Before he disappeared within she caught a glimpse of something strange up high on his right shoulder—a tattoo in the shape of two intertwined serpents, set back to back. 

******* 

Artie stood in front of the pedestal at the center of the library and concentrated on the subject she was researching. While she was wary of most magic, she held a profound respect the force that acted as a catalogue of Vane's collection. Although one had to be careful of random thoughts, she had admitted on more than one occasion that there could not be a more efficient means of keeping track of the books. The thought of 'old magic' yielded no response, so she tried 'rare metals.' A moment later she felt guided towards some stacks in the far corner of the room. 

After retrieving a book with just the title 'Rare Metals and Magic,' she found an empty table and got to work. The author had obviously been a talented mage, for on each page, there was not only a description of the materials, but an example of it that was projected up over the open book in column of light, one she could not only see but touch and weigh in her fingers. She skimmed each page for characteristics of metals that matched the cylinder Nash had brought her. Each of the ones she thought it could be just didn't fit somehow. Tin was too soft. Silver wasn't quite the right color. Nickel wasn't strong enough. Zinc wasn't shiny enough. And Platinum? It was close to platinum, but far too light, although it did have a similar bluish tint. 

She clawed at the pages of the book, flipping them carelessly. And miraculously, one of those aggravated and near page tearing fits of frustration yielded some interesting information when her eye caught the word 'technology.' It was a tiny entry by comparison to the others, but her instincts told her this was what she needed: 

_Palladium: An extremely rare, silver-colored metal once found in the area around Althena's Temple. What few sizeable samples that were discovered have long since been lost. This material had the ability to withstand immense magical attacks. Upon its discovery, __it was thought to be the perfect material for the fabrication of armor. It also has the ability to allow selective permeation of magic as well as air. This metal is harder than platinum, but more malleable. To utilize Palladium to its fullest potential, a mage with a great knowledge of both magic and technology would be needed. The scarcity of this metal has made research impossible and it is now considered by many to be little more than rumor and myth. _

She read it over and over. Yes, if Gravitt wanted to contain that magic inside those things, and release some if it at given times, this would be perfect. She was so engrossed in the book that she didn't notice someone slide into the chair across from her until he spoke. "Hello Artie." 

Looking up, she gave a smirk at her blonde friend, "Hey, you're no fun. You put your clothes back on! But I have to say, the blush still looks good on you." 

He gave her a tiny grin as he set the book he was carrying onto the table. "Uh, yeah." 

She wasn't going to let him just get away with a lame response like that so she gave a wink and asked, "So, what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?" 

He shook his head ruefully at her, but clearly didn't have an answer to match the obnoxious question other than: "Research." 

She couldn't fight the sarcasm. "Wow, really? In here?" After another wink, "What are you looking for?" 

"Oh, just something for a friend." 

Artie narrowed her eyes, "The nutcase on the horse that tried to kill me?" 

Brinson laughed as he nodded slightly, "Sabre can be a bit…overzealous sometimes." 

"Overprotective, you mean." 

"Both." 

"You haven't seen her hanging around any chimneys lately, have you?" 

"No, she's afraid of heights. Why?" 

"Never mind. It's not really important, I guess." 

He paused, and gave a glance to the book that she had open in front of her. "Interesting topic you have there." 

"Yeah. Actually, I was going to ask you—anything about your friend Gravitt there that you want to tell me? I don't exactly trust his 'gifts.'" 

He looked around suspiciously and then leaned over to whisper in her ear. "You shouldn't, but I can't tell you why." 

She pulled herself across the table, so they were nose to nose. "Why not? One of those things almost killed Nash this morning." 

"Because I don't know anything about them. Honestly. He doesn't tell us anything." 

"Us?" 

"Sabre and I." 

"So you do work for him?" 

He pushed himself back from the table and stood up, but kept his voice low. "In a manner of speaking, yes. But we never had this conversation." 

Artie was perplexed. "You work for him, but you don't. You don't want me to know this, yet you warned me about him. You are part of his delegation, yet he doesn't tell you anything? That's the screwiest relationship I've ever heard of!" 

"I know." 

"What are you afraid of?" 

He was clearly terrified as he said: "Everything." 

Before she could question him, he backed away and then turned around, striding out of the library without so much as a glance back at her. As she watched him depart, she recalled the odd mark on his shoulder and remembered where she had seen it before. It was a fleeting memory, but one that stayed with her because of the mystery surrounding it. She had seen it only once before, burned into the back of her father's best friend. Although that had been when she was a child, the hesitation in her father's voice and the chilling fact that he had called her by her full name when she had asked about it, told her it was not something to ever be mentioned. 

Larkes and her father were such good friends that Artie her and her brothers had called him Uncle. The day she saw his mark, she had been only five years old and was 'helping' her father and brothers work on a ship. She was watching from the dock as they sealed the hull of an old fishing boat with tar and caulk when her oldest brother knocked over a bucket of hot tar on an overhead platform. Larkes had been working on scaffolding underneath it, and the boiling tar poured down onto him, covering the back of his shirt. Her uncle had responded almost instantly, tearing the shirt from his back before he could be seriously burned. At first nothing seemed out of the ordinary; men did this all the time. But something on him caught her inquisitive eye—a navy blue tattoo high on his shoulder depicting two tangled serpentines. 

Later, after they had quit for the day, she had asked Larkes what it meant, since many of her brothers wore tattoos and each held some significance to something. He just shook his head and walked away. So she asked her brothers but despite her incessant queries, none of them would answer her. Finally, her father took her aside and whispered, "Artemus, you must respect anyone with that mark, and not ask of it. Just accept that any you see that wear it have survived a great trial, and triumphed over it." 

Artie never did learn what the secret behind the tattoo was, but now she was beginning to suspect that the relationship between Brinson and Gravitt was not one of equals. She looked at the book he had left behind, and picked it up. It would make a perfect excuse to go ask him about the tattoo and other things—including Sabre. 

As she stood up, a piece of paper sticking out of his book caught her attention. She pulled it out and assumed he had left the note that simply read: "He visited 'The Ruins'" 

She didn't have to ask who 'he' was, and the mentions of The Ruins made the effects of the bark all but vanish as a cold chill ran through her and hit the very bones that were bruised.

****** 

A quick lunch and some three pieces of bark later landed Artie in the doorway of Mia's private dining room. She was feeling a little too good, but her smile vanished as Robin's sharp voice rung out with all the subtlety and compassion of a meat axe. "I thought I told you to stay in bed." 

The engineer fought off the dizziness and shrugged as she took the last available seat that put her right between Nash and Darshak. She was determined not to give Robin even the smallest bit of triumph. Artie looked around the table at the other invited guests and the Council who were gathered for the meeting. Although the table was round, it was clear who was in charge—and even clearer what she wanted. She counted heads—nine people. Nine people were going to decide the fate of Vane. It didn't seem right, especially given the nature of some of those nine. _Of course only one opinion in Vane really matters… _

"I again renew my objection and suggest we move to a closed door meeting of council members only, as tradition demands!" Robin's voice was clipped and direct as she gave a harsh, sweeping glare between Nash, Artie, Darshak and Gravitt. 

"Objection has been noted, given its due consideration, and overruled," was Mia's only response. 

The Guildmaster sat facing the door, flanked by Alastair and Tamora on her left and Robin and Gregory on her right. Something was odd about her. It seemed her violet eyes were trained off in some dream. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anyone's day, but I'm sure you all know why we're here," she said. 

Everyone nodded, and she continued, "First of all, we all owe Gravitt a sincere debt of gratitude for his kindness in helping us rebuild our city. Some of you may not yet know this, but he has been our most generous donor. But for this, his most amazing gift, I have no way of giving proper thanks." Excitement built in her voice as she continued, "Gravitt has found a way to make my greatest dream come true--to give us the means to make Vane fly again. Still, with your help, we may find some way of thanking him for what he has done. That is of course why we are here. We need to set together a plan for action to prepare the city for flight." 

Gravitt grinned as he glanced at Artie. It was a sinister smirk that seemed to cause his silver eyes to cut through her skin. She shivered, and turned back to Mia. 

"I spoke with Gravitt at length this morning. He believes the large canisters will charge in a week to ten days. That means we have only that long to set them up and be prepared to raise the city. I don't believe this is a job for just Artie's group, nor the Faculty, nor even the guards. I think this is something we all, every citizen and student of Vane, will have to work together to complete." She gestured gracefully to the far end of the table, as if a string was guiding her arm. "Which is why I asked Artie, Nash and Darshak to join us." 

Alastair asked, "Might I ask why we are rushing into this? It's quite unlike you, Majesty." 

Mia's voice was touched with frost as she replied. "Thank you for your concern, Master Alastair, but I assure you that we are not rushing into anything. Gravitt explained that he is afraid that with all the magic we use here, the canisters might be accidentally activated before they are properly placed. If this happened, we would not only lose the canister but that it may even cause serious damage since they may levitate something we did not intend to levitate, or had failed to secure properly. In fact, if triggered out of sequence, they could even tear the city itself apart. As a result, I have asked him to leave them outside the city gates for the time being. I have also placed them under heavy guard until we can begin setting them up, which I hope will be this afternoon." 

Darshak pushed his blond bangs off his brow and frowned. "We will need more help. My men are already working double—and in some cases—triple shifts. Honestly, Majesty, what with the Festival, that horde of visitors, _and Master Nash's Inauguration we are spread incredibly thin. Is there any possible way this could be delayed at least until after Saturday?" _

"I understand your concern, Darshak and I am thankful for both your frankness and most especially the dedication you and your people have demonstrated this past week. However, I believe if we get them installed quickly, it will be one less thing the guards have to deal with."  


The Captain of the Guard sighed; Artie could see the defeat in his eyes as well as the frustration of having more work thrown at him and his already abused staff. She had to sympathize, because she knew she was going to be facing the same thing in a few moments herself. She looked back to the Guildmaster, and for the first time noticed a large and softly glowing sapphire stone hanging from her neck, suspended by and set into what appeared (from the distance anyway) to be the same metal as the one used to make the canisters. Nash's earlier comment came to mind and she was about to ponder the significance of it when a flat, cynical voice broke into her thoughts. 

"I assume since details are being discussed that there is not point in arguing whether or not we should even use these things?" The tone from the Healer was aggravated, and for the first time Artie realized they had actually agreed on something. 

"I don't know why we wouldn't, Master Robin. They are a viable means to raise the city." 

"Are we sure they will work as expected? I don't suppose they've been tested on this scale anywhere else before? Frankly, Majesty, I was not all that impressed by last night's demonstration. As Tamora pointed out then, the most junior mage on the staff could have floated that table. If it's not tested, it can't be trusted." 

Gravitt's voice was even as he quietly responded, "I don't believe anyone else has had a need for them as you do." 

Mia's eyes dashed across the room and stared down her critics before an almost desperate look crept behind her detached eyes. "Can't we take a chance? What do we have to lose?" 

"Lose, Majesty? We have everything to lose! Need I remind you that we've taken chances in the past and paid the consequences for them many times over?! I believe these devices should be further investigated on the medical, technical and magical planes before we even attempt to raise our city with them." 

Gregory sighed, every small wisdom line of his face purporting into a grimace. "As surprising as it seems, I agree with Robin." He stood up and gave a bow, addressing Mia more than anyone else. "Majesty, pardon my interruption and my brusqueness, but I feel I must say this." 

A hesitant smile was his cue to continue. 

"Majesty, while I am grateful to Gravitt for these canisters, and their unusual contents, I do not feel we should pursue this venture without further research. There are too many answers we must ascertain before we just cast our bets, and our lives, on them. Therefore I must support Master Robin's position and move that our own experts should examine them, just to err on the side of caution." 

Mia's voice dropped in a slight amount of aggravation. "What for instance, Master Gregory, do we need to know that hasn't already been told to us?" 

The old man didn't hesitate as he replied, looking directly at her and listed four questions, counting them out on his fingers for effect. "One; how do they work? Two; why do they work? Three; can they be relied upon to not just raise the city but to keep it aloft permanently? Four--and most importantly--are there any side effects?" 

Mia seemed frustrated, but she still decided to appease him. Turning to look directly at the engineer, she asked, "Have you heard of these devices, Master Artemus?" 

Artie felt all the eyes fall on her. "Slightly. I examined one this morning." 

Gravitt gave a surprised glare at her statement, one, Artie noted, he quickly covered up as he pretended to listen to her with interest. 

"Could you satisfy Master Gregory's curiosity?" 

Artie nodded, and felt her palms begin to sweat. Talking in front of people—especially such distinguished company--was unnerving. So with a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind and dissected the questions one by one. "First of all, they appear to work on basic principles of thrust and capacitance. 

"Pardon my ignorance, but would you explain those terms?" Tamora inquired with an air of haughtiness. 

She felt like a textbook as she replied, "Capacitance is the ability to store up energy and then release it. I guess you could compare it to a sponge. You fill it up with water until it can't hold any more, and then you wring it out. It's kind of the same thing here. The stones absorb magic, and then when they become saturated, you know; so full of water they can't hold anymore, they have to shed some of it. That's what produces the thrust, which is just the upward lifting motion." 

They nodded in understanding at her example, and she continued. "As to why they work, I can't answer that. That's magic. I don't do magic." 

Both Tamora and Robin rolled their eyes as Artie said, "I did notice some rather peculiar things about them though." 

"Such as?" Mia asked. 

"Such as the fact that they are made out of Palladium, near as I can guess." 

Gravitt played dumb; she knew he would. "What's Palladium?" 

Artie scowled at him, "The metal you used to make those canisters. How can you not know what it is? It's extremely rare, virtually nonexistent in fact. So where did you get it?" 

The reply was again insincere innocence. "I'm not sure. The people I hired to harness the power of the stones had it, or knew where to find it. 

Nash spoke up this time, his voice pointed and nervous at the same time. "And who might they be?" 

Gravitt gave a warm smile to Nash, as if almost tempting the mage to remove it from his lips. "I'd like to tell you, but one of the conditions they worked under was that they remain anonymous. Prairie mages tend to not like their names released, especially when working for hire. But I assure you I paid for the best, and I always get what I pay for, always." 

Artie gave a timid nod to her audience and then went on. "I also discovered that they have an interesting side effect. They don't hold the magic so well—they drain out quickly. And they don't seem particularly choosy about where they get their magic, or how. I guess you could consider that they can kill an interesting side effect." 

She paused as the others stared at her in surprise, though in Mia's case it seemed mixed with anger—or something. Those violet eyes still didn't seem right, but with an audible sigh she continued. "Nash had energized the test cylinder with a very strong spell; it should have stayed up in the air for hours. It didn't, in fact it only lasted a few minutes before it started to lose power. As it started to fall Nash tried to catch it so it wouldn't be damaged. The second he touched it, the thing latched onto him like a starved leech and just took what it wanted from him! It wasn't just drawing power; it was sucking it out of him, almost as if it was attacking him! Once he let go, it returned to its path of flight fully recharged, but again lost altitude after another few minutes. So aside from the safety issue, I don't think even Vane could supply the amount of magic these things require to operate." 

Mia glared at Nash, icicles nearly shooting from her eyes at him. "Did you touch the canister?" 

"Yes," was the abrasive response. 

"Were you not at the reception last night?" 

"I was." 

"Did you not hear Gravitt's warning not to touch them once they were activated?" 

"I did. And I don't remember him saying that the damn things were deadly!" 

Mia brushed his excuse aside. "Then it was your own fault." 

Nash wasn't just angry at Mia's lack of compassion for his brush with death; he was downright frustrated. Artie could tell that just by the way he wrung his hands together under the table. She saw him wipe his palms on his slacks; they were covered in sweat. She knew he had become used to some of the elder mages ignoring or insulting him, because she went through the same thing. But not Mia. Even in the heat of a disagreement, the Guildmaster would always listen to those around her; it was one of the things that Artie respected so much about the woman. 

She looked at her friend again and saw him gritting his teeth. This had clearly struck him deeper than anything else—here they were explaining how deadly those devices were and Mia didn't even show an iota of worry, and then had the gall to turn it around so he looked like an idiot! 

And that was just the beginning. 

Artie couldn't believe how quickly Mia shot down every single concern, but her coldness towards Nash was unmatched. She took another bite of the bark, as she realized maybe Nash was right—maybe Mia wouldn't listen to him or anyone else for that matter. She fought through the fuzziness that the medicine had induced in her and tuned back into the banter of the advisors. Alastair finally asked an intelligent question: "I wonder if we can use these devices as a means of defense? Could we store magic in them and release it when threatened? Or perhaps use them to absorb magical attacks, such as the one that brought Vane down in the first place?" 

It was Tamora who replied first. "Interesting idea, Alastair. I might be able to work a spell on them that would make them act as a first line of defense. While I'm not anticipating another attack, I believe we've all learned that anything is possible." 

Artie narrowed her eyes. She tried to think of a way that might bring some reason to the table, now that Alastair and Tamora were starting to side with Mia. Was it exhaustion over arguing or were they really seeing something beneficial in Gravitt and his stones? 

At least Gregory was still skeptical. "I'm still concerned about how we are going to control these things. What if there is a problem with them, once they are activated? What can we do about it? Can they be overridden or disabled? At best, flight is difficult to achieve, and harder to maintain." 

_Is it me, or did that have the sound of personal experience? _

Mia beamed—she was winning. "I'm sure once they are in place the four of you could come up with something. In the meantime we need to get them set up. Master Artemus, although I realize you are hurt I must still ask this of you, please have your workers begin placing the largest of the canisters outside the city. Perhaps Rouke can oversee the work for you." 

Artie nodded reluctantly, she would have to give in for now, but only for now. "I guess you want them equidistant apart?" 

Mia looked to Gravitt. 

Gravitt just grinned. "But of course. That would make the most structural sense, right?" 

Robin sighed and the words dripped off her tongue, "I still feel that this is entirely premature. Again, here we are, trusting another outsider to solve Vane's problems. Have we forgotten what happened to us the last time we did that?" 

Artie couldn't believe she said what she said next. Maybe it was the bark she had been chewing earlier in the day, or maybe she had just had it with Robin and her contempt for the general population. "If you're going to insult me 'Master Robin,' just do it. Don't use fancy words or dance around it." 

Mia all but snarled at the Healer. "I am _sure Master Robin was not intending to imply that for anyone in this room. Are there any other __logistical concerns?" _

Robin glared at Artie, clearly annoyed at her retort. "Actually, child, I had quite another in mind. You would be well advised to heed your doctor's advice and stay in bed when you're using the Fellis bark." 

Nash ignored the exchange between the others and met Mia's icy glare, and this time he wasn't backing down. "Yes. What about the strange markings on the canisters? What are they?" 

"I agree they are unusual," said Gregory. " Again, something that requires a bit more research." 

Alastair sat on the fence, again. "They looked like simple decorations to me, but you know more languages than I've forgotten." 

"I didn't recognize it, but it might be a derivative or dialect of one of the more obscure tongues." 

"Its worth investigating, Majesty," Tamora added tiredly. 

Mia conceded that fact. "Fine. Master Gregory, as the columns are being erected, feel free to try and translate what you think is written on the sides." 

Robin rolled her eyes at the Guildmaster's obvious naiveté. "Wouldn't it be smarter to do that before we get them out and up?" 

Mia gave a perfect smile to the trying woman, "How is he going to read them if they are covered by tarps in carts, Master Robin?" 

"Knowing Gregory, I suspect he'll think of something." 

The Guildmaster had obviously had enough. She leaned back in her seat, waiving one hand in dismissal and retorting in a bored and very unladylike tone: "Fine, whatever he wants to do. Now, before we all run out of patience, is there anything else?" 

Artie frowned at the tone from the black haired woman. She had never seen her this rash nor rude before. Sure, Mia could be businesslike and had told people off, but never in such a way that would alienate someone even for a second. It might put them in their place (like Orinth at the last Faculty meeting) but she had never been quite so malicious. Gregory raised an eyebrow at it too; perhaps he was having similar thoughts. 

"I think we're forgetting one minor detail," Tamora said quietly. "The Transmission Spring--it will need to be reactivated unless we wish to completely isolate ourselves." 

"Once we are ready to float the city you and I will take care of that," Mia said flatly. 

Artie laughed out loud. She couldn't hold it back—the bark was really kicking in. When they all looked at her, she grinned, "Yeah, float the city. Anyone else realize we're stuck in the ground or am I the only one to have noticed that fact lately?" 

Nash smiled at her. So did Gregory. And even Robin. Mia's plan had a fatal flaw they hadn't realized. Even if they could levitate the buildings, and their foundations, what about the ground under them? The city was still an island, but an island washed ashore! Surely those canisters didn't have enough pull to take the earth with them! 

She thought they had won, and the look on the Guildmaster's face—one that spoke of a hope destroyed with one touch of cold reality—confirmed it. 

Until Gravitt spoke. 

His lips curled, showing his teeth as he said, "I can assure you that won't be a problem, Artemus." 

"How?" Nash asked the single word coated in such sarcasm it surprised Artie. 

The merchant raised a hand, and Artie waited for a serpent's tongue to jump from Gravitt's mouth, since he was laying it on so thick. "Allow me a moment to explain, please." 

Mia was smiling again—faith reflecting in her still vacant violet eyes as she looked at the man. 

"I would have offered this information earlier, but I had assumed that Vane was familiar with the concept and existence of Wild Magic." 

The Council—except Gregory—looked from one to another, muttering and shaking their heads. The Illusionist's glare was set firmly on Gravitt, as though reading his soul and not liking what he found there. 

"I am not familiar with the concept. Please explain it, if you don't mind," Mia said. 

Artie glanced at Nash. For some reason he looked terrified. 

Gravitt nodded and gave a smile. "Wild Magic is a term used to describe the extraordinarily potent, yet untrained, natural magic found amongst some members of the Prairie Tribes. In my delegation, I am honored to have the person known as The Quake Child of the Prairie. His name is Brinson Tramonto, and while his control over his power is poor at best, I am quite confident that with the help of some of your finest mages, Majesty, it could be focused enough to sever Vane's ties to the ground." 

"We probably have mages here more powerful than your friend, and I doubt they could do what you are suggesting. If such a thing is even possible." Tamora supplied. 

Gravitt nearly licked his lips as he held them in anticipation. "I realize it is hard to fathom, but I have seen Brinson level a town without even using a spell—he was driven to anger or something along those lines. Anyway, it was as if he was controlling the ground with just his body or that the planet itself had become an extension of his own arm. I'm not sure how he does it, as with your most capable engineer, I am not qualified to speak of the subject of 'magic.' However, I am sure that with some help he could shake Vane free of its prison. Though he will require constant guidance." 

Artie didn't even have to look up to know that Mia was shining that immaculate smile again. A glance to her left revealed Nash just shaking his head ever so slightly, as if he was being tortured. 

"And what makes you so sure of that?" Gregory snapped. 

Gravitt smirked, and attempted to stare the old man down. "Because Tribesmen who are Gifted are more forces of nature than they are truly human." He actually smiled at Gregory's brief glare of rage and spoke before the other could object. "Don't misunderstand. Brinson and those like him are quite pleasant individuals, intelligent even considering their limited backgrounds. But when they begin to give in to their Talents, they lose all control. They truly become an extension of whatever it is they are able to control--one utterly without mind, conscience, or soul. So untrained are many of them, that they are no more able to stop their power any more than one can stop a flood or a forest fire. They are just as powerful, and just as dangerous." 

If Gravitt wanted a captive audience, he had it, and he relished it. He was ignoring Nash's sudden interest in the floor and Gregory's hate filled stares as that grin on his face grew. Artie wanted to jump on the table and kick him in the mouth, but she contained herself as he finished his seemingly well-rehearsed speech. 

"You see, good people, Brinson has been my personal friend for most of our shared lives. Since we were children together, in fact. Though without magic myself I have done all I could to help control his talent, and I'm sad to say that I wasn't much help at all. Trust me, he has more than enough power to free your city from the ground's tight embrace…or to destroy it completely. That is why it is best that you have your strongest and most capable mages on hand when we begin." 

Mia was back to her optimistic self, "I am so glad your friend is willing to help us. In return, perhaps we can teach him to control his talent beyond just controlling his temper." She turned to Tamora and Alastair, "Please meet with this Brinson person and see how he can help us." 

They both nodded; they were back on Mia's side, along with Gravitt, of course. The engineer took stock of whom she had: Gregory, Robin, and Nash. Darshak, maybe, but only for convenience. She didn't know what to do, but fortunately Nash did something. 

Her friend was beyond furious and frustrated—and he wasn't bothering to hide it anymore. He stood up and gave fixed stare right into Mia's eyes as he delivered quite a direct dose of reality in a razor-sharp voice. "You're just going to use him? Just like that? Don't you think this could kill him if his power is so uncontrolled? What's wrong with you Mia? This isn't like you at all! I don't understand it!" 

Artie stared at the Guildmaster. She didn't even so much as look in his direction, let alone give him a response; it was as if she hadn't heard him at all! She beamed at everyone gathered, then stood up, and simply said, "Meeting adjourned." 

Nash threw himself back into his chair, defeated, and people began to file out. He appeared to be tormented by a sort of hopelessness beyond anything she had ever seen before, in anyone. It scared her, so she did the only thing that came to mind. She gave him a sharp punch in the shoulder and then held a piece of bark out to him, jokingly offering the painkiller. But he didn't even crack a smile at her. He just looked at her, this whole nightmare reflecting in his dark eyes. There was no question now. They were all in big trouble. 

* * *

Chapter Thirteen | Index | Chapter Fifteen (coming soon) 


	16. Chapter Fifteen

_Author's Note: Extra special thanks to Ian Cohen for writing the song "The Falcon's Dance" especially for this chapter!_

If Love Were Only Part of the Equation

Chapter Fifteen

__

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us." –Ralph Waldo Emerson

Sabre felt as though she was being bought all over again. She fought to keep her expression blank as she cursed memories of faceless people milling around her, looking at her as something less than human--an object to be owned, used, and eventually discarded. She sat as quietly as she could on the edge of the cold table, fighting an irrational urge to run for the door and the relative safety of her room.  Ashu had called it the Infirmary and she'd almost hit him as she growled,  "I'm not infirm, I'm just tired." But he had insisted and, this once at least, she gave in to him.

This tiny room seemed smaller than she had expected it to be and cold, almost as cold as the odd woman with the barely combed blonde hair who stood staring at her over the edge of a clipboard for what seemed like hours. Nervously, she crossed her arms across her chest and looked away from the strange woman, glancing around the room again. Unlike the rest of the Magic Guild, there hadn't been much thought put into its décor. Not a single fancy picture or rug in sight.  There was just the minimal furniture of the table, a chair, and a large cabinet on the wall. Then another chill swept through her and she shivered.  The room was freezing--it had to be--or was it the frosty looks the blonde kept giving her?

Finally the other woman spoke to her, the tone dry and nearly irritated. "My name is Robin Mikasa, the Master of Healing Magic here at the Guild, and I admit its not every day I get a request from the Premier to examine some wandering Tribal girl. You and Master Nash must be…rather close."

Trying to ignore the tone of Robin's voice, Sabre gave a hesitant reply, "Well, old friends I guess you could say."

"Quite, I'm sure," Robin said dubiously. "Now, what is the problem, Say-ber…is it?"

"It's _Sah-braeh_," she corrected, more sharply than she had intended.  Then, with a sigh, she continued; "Sorry. I haven't been feeling well lately."

Robin glared at her. "Master Nash implied it went beyond that. What kinds of symptoms have you had?"

She frowned, pondering a few unpleasant words to spout at Ashu for putting her through this ordeal. "I'm tired and I feel sick to my stomach now and then."  At the other's raised eyebrow she confessed,  "Okay, quite often. Sometimes I get bad headaches, too."

Robin stepped up to her and reached out towards her, surprising Sabre at both the closeness and gesture.  She felt a twitch of magic as the blonde held a hand over her stomach. "Thank heavens—at least you are not pregnant. We certainly wouldn't want any sort of scandals here, now would we? In fact, I suggest you distance yourself from our new Premier. He has enough problems as it is, and your presence will distract him from his duties—friend or otherwise."  

_Oh great Ashu, now they think I'm sleeping with you…_

As though responding to the expression of exasperation on Sabre's face, the other continued after a small, and irritated, sigh. "Okay, so you don't like me.  I'm used to that but I will tell you this, Sabre. Anything you disclose to me in this room will remain confidential, between you and me.  On that I give you my word, so if you really wish for my help, please be completely honest and do not leave anything out."

Sabre nodded at the woman. For a moment she thought it was strange that this brusque healer wanted to help her, but Ashu did have powerful friends.

"Very well, let us see what else we can find here. Now, how long as the sickness been with you?"

"Only the past few months. I've just been so tired, even after I rest."

Robin seemed to ponder this and then closed her eyes, "I can sense that you are Gifted without even examining your aura."

"Yes. I…I am."

"Powerfully so, I believe. What is the nature of your Gift?"

"I can make people feel things."

"Through your touch?"

"Yes."

"Fascinating. There have been few cases of such magic ever known. Are your parents Gifted?"

"No, they were not."

The woman scribbled a note; only lifting a brow slightly at Sabre's use of the past tense, and then asked another question. "Do you have any siblings or children?"

She bit her lip as she considered how to answer. She would leave Ashu out of this as much as she could by keeping his identity ambiguous, yet still give accurate information in the hopes that Robin would be able to help where the Prairie mages had failed. "I have a brother and a son."

Robin looked up, as if expecting her to continue. So she supplied, "My brother is Gifted, and my son is showing signs of it."

"Both of them in the same way as you?"

"No. My brother can command the sky. My son, well, I think he will turn out like me."

The healer looked at her quizzically. "The sky?"

 "He can make storms."

"Where is he now?"

She took a moment before speaking, the answer more truth than lie. "I don't know. We were separated as children."

The blonde nodded as she continued to take notes and query. "Your husband?"

She held her breath as she forced herself to lie again, since changing Gravitt's cover story would likely result his finding out, and ultimately in the death of her child. "Dead. And he wasn't, Gifted I mean. He was immune to all kinds of magic."

"I assume he was related to Gravitt?"

Sabre nodded solemnly, wondering how much this woman knew about Gravitt, and just how much she should say. "He was Gravitt's brother." 

The mage tapped her chin with her pencil. "You know, Sabre, perhaps you can help me with something, and in turn help yourself. Yesterday at a meeting, Gravitt brought up something called Wild Magic. He claimed it was a phenomenon that ran rampant amongst your people, but didn't quite explain it well enough for my liking. Perhaps you could elaborate for me?"

Sabre felt a lump form in her throat. She wasn't sure what Gravitt was up to, but just having it confirmed that he was up to something was enough to increase her worries. "Well, I guess it works like your magic, but it's incredibly potent and almost never passed from parent to child. It just seems random, for some reason. Some of the legends claim that the 'Children of the Prairie' who are chosen to be guardians of their Tribe are blessed with it.  Or cursed.... sometimes."

"So it is a legend?"

"Yes, but it exists."

"I see. How many of these Children are there?"

She counted them off on her fingers. "My brother was The Storm Child, and Brinson is the Quake Child. I once met the Sea Child, the Fire Child and the Wind Child. Some say there's an Illusion Child, too, but I've never known any that had seen him." She hesitated for a moment before finishing.  "They called me The Death Child."

"The Death Child?" Robin asked incredulously.

"When I was little I didn't have any real control—I still don't, but I learned to be more careful as I got older." She held her hands up, and glared at the thick leather gloves.  "I've worn these ever since I can remember. The first time I hurt someone, it was my brother. We were playing, I got angry, and grabbed him. The next thing I knew, he was unconscious, and I didn't feel too well. He got better, but it was enough to scare my parents."

Robin nodded as her brow furrowed in understanding. "So they made you wear gloves. Did they seek any other treatment for you?"

"There was a man who traveled on the Prairie and who claimed to have been trained in Vane, but all he did was take their money.  He didn't offer any sort of solution."

"Do you remember his name?"

"Rauchic."

The healer seemed annoyed at the name, but her expression softened again before she spoke. "Allow me to apologize on behalf of the Magic Guild. Rauchic was one of our members many years ago, but he was stripped of his title and rank because of matters involving debauchery. He should not be representing himself as a Master of Vane because he is nothing more than a fraud—and a rather abysmal one at that."

Sabre just nodded, even if she didn't understand all the words.

Robin tapped her clipboard with her pencil and returned to business. "So they call you the 'Death Child' because you hurt your brother?"

"Not just Ashu—I hurt many people." She forced a gasp down her throat, realizing that she had just given his name.  "I guess I scared so many people that they started calling me that. I didn't like it then, and I still don't, but I guess its what I am."

Robin nodded as she looked over her recorded information. "I find it interesting that some of the 'Children of the Prairie' have Gifts that are linked to the four elements and the others are not."

"The four elements?"

The blonde gave a rote response, clearly founded in years of study: "Fire, Water, Earth and Air. All types of elemental magic can be traced through those four groups. I wonder if we are missing an element we never considered before, Spirit, perhaps?""

Sabre nodded, and made a silent prayer of hope that the woman would stop quizzing her on this—after all, shouldn't the mages of Vane know more about Wild Magic? They were supposed to know everything about _all_ magic, weren't they?

Robin wasn't going to let it drop. "Brinson. He travels with you and Gravitt? What is his relation to the two of you?"

She wasn't ready for that question, but did her best to flub it. "He's just a friend of ours—of Gravitt and I."

The healer had the wisdom to be skeptical, "Just friends?"

Sabre felt her face flush.

"Never mind," Robin said flatly. "That's really none of my business anyway. But I do need to know—is it true that he can level a town just by 'calling' the earth."

Her blush was thankfully fading quickly. "Yes," she replied.

"Can he control it?"

As perplexed as she was, she answered the question honestly. "No, not really. Little things he can direct and control, but only sometimes, and I think a lot of that depends on his mood.  If he lets it last too long, or if he tries to summon too much at once, then, that's the end of it. He can't stop it."

"Extremely fascinating. I think this information will prove quite useful, Sabre."

Sabre lifted her head and looked at the woman, the small bit of hope she had been holding back finally surfacing in her eyes. "Does that mean you can tame my Gift? I want to be able to be normal. I don't want to have to wear gloves all the time and I want to be able to touch people without being afraid of what I might do to them."

"We'll see. I'm going to look at your aura before I can make any promises.  That should answer the last few questions I have, at least for the moment."

Sabre nodded and watched as Robin set the clipboard down and slowly waved her hands over her, the woman's fingers held in what must have been uncomfortable positions as a soft glow surrounded her hands.  Slowly, the warmth of her essence filled her and she could feel it enfold her and become visible. She looked at it; the dark red, almost burgundy glow emanating from within and surrounding her. She gasped, seeing that within the glowing shell there were ragged, black holes through which nothing could be seen.  She stared at these in a growing horror, knowing that they held death within their emptiness.  A moment later, Robin stepped back and broke the spell.

The healer took a seat in the chair across from her and shook her head. "I assume that when you use your Gift, it makes you ill?"

"Yes, I usually feel sick for a few days or so.  Sometimes more than others."

"How do you use your Gift? To heal? To kill or injure?"

Sabre hesitated for a moment before replying.  "Usually to defend myself. I have only healed with it a few times, and those were very small wounds."

"Interesting. Is it easier to use magic when you are feeling positive emotions or wanting to help someone?"

"No. That takes more out of me." She felt warmth fill her cheeks as she said,  "Someone tried to kiss me once and I gave him a shock that set him reeling to the floor."

"Probably because you are so untrained. Your talents, once mastered, would be wonderful to have in the infirmary. Tell me, do you plan to stay in Vane?"

"No."

"Why ever not?"

Even if she had wanted to stay, she knew she couldn't. Again Gravitt was torturing her! Here, there was a tiny shred of hope, but the reality of the situation was simple—she would not be here in a week's time, or less. Not able to explain it all for fear of her life, all she said was: "I really don't like it here."

"You don't like Vane? For years people have come to us for help with magic and we turned them away. By our new laws we may no longer do that." She gave a rueful grin before continuing, "After meeting you, and listening to all of the nonsense that comes out of Gregory's mouth, I'm beginning to question whether or not we were wrong in the past." Then, with something that almost resembled a true smile, the healer finished her thought: "You might be able to receive help and training in your Gift if you choose to stay with us, at least for awhile."

Sabre didn't even nod. She didn't have a choice, and there was no point in raising false hopes now.

Robin put the clipboard down and touched her shoulder. "Very well. Back to your Gift—I believe that when you use it, you are actually giving some of your aura away. This is incredibly strange, and not at all how traditional magic works—otherwise, there'd be no mages! Regardless, this theory would account for the blackness in it, and your illness. You recover from your sickness as your body adjusts to your new, thinner aura. 

"I see."

"I'm not entirely sure you do.  There is nothing I can do to reverse this, Sabre. It will continue to disintegrate as you use your Gift. And once your aura--your essence is gone-- you are, too. There is no way that I know of to force the aura to regenerate itself." 

Sabre froze, nearly feeling icicles form in her fire-hair. 

Robin must have sensed her discomfort and said, "I promise that I will try to find a way to help you, but I can't guarantee anything. This is something that I've never seen before, and I don't know if any of our volumes in the library even touch upon it. So, in the meantime, all I can do is give you something to treat the symptoms, but again, there really is no cure.  Your body will eventually adjust to your reduced, damaged aura--but only if you can abstain from using your gift." She turned and opened the cabinet, and quickly located what she was looking for. Placing the item in Sabre's hand, she just said, "These herbs should keep you from vomiting and at least let you feel stronger. When you feel sick to your stomach or weak, eat one, but don't eat more than five in a day."

Sabre nodded, still numb from the confirmation of her worst fears.

"Do you have any questions?"

Sabre ignored the twisting feeling in her gut, and asked hesitantly, "If you can't help me, can you at least help my son? He's still young enough."

The corner of the stern Healer's mouth twitched again into a gentle smile as she delivered the next dose of bad news. "I will be glad to examine him if you wish, but unless I also have the ability to study both his parents and their respective families, I may not be able to make an accurate prediction. Also, you said that most of the time Wild Magic is not hereditary. I don't know if this will be of any comfort, but most of our skills develop or change as we get older.  So whatever talents he may be showing now can be expected to transform as he grows into them.  And… you will be there to guide and protect him.  I have the feeling that you did not have that as you grew into your power, did you?"

Sabre shook her head, finding no words to speak.

Robin looked at her oddly for a moment.  "I know I'm considered something of an ogre by everyone, and not just for the way I look."  She gave a very brief, but real, smile.  "A reputation like that comes in handy when I've a reluctant patient to deal with, but I don't like losing patients, and that now includes you.  If anything happens, anything, I expect you to come here first thing.  Understand?"

****** 

Sabre slowly picked her way back to the room she shared with her son. She was still absorbing the news that Robin had given her and trying to find some small peace with it. Oh, sure, she could live a long and healthy life provided she didn't use her magic. That was the easy part! She hated using it or even thinking about it now. But it wasn't her choice. Gravitt would latch onto her a few more times and that would be the end of it. He owned her and now he would kill her, just as he always promised—only this time he wouldn't intend to do it. A sour smile crossed her face as the thought struck her, how angry Gravitt would be if she were to suddenly drop dead before he was finished with her!  But even that smile faded as she realized that the animal would only take out his rage on Darian.

Infuriated at the sick twist of fate, she clutched her fists at her side and fought the tightness in her throat. What could be done? If the mages of Vane didn't know the answers, who did? Would telling Gravitt help or hinder her situation? He might be more careful to protect his investment, or he might exterminate her then and there just for the fun of it. She decided against telling him, but that just brought up a more emotional issue: what about Darian, Ashu and Brinson?

She stopped in the hallway and leaned up against the wall as her stomach flipped. Her son was too young to understand any of this, and so she firmly decided that he would never know. Ashu had too much to worry about as it was, and certainly didn't need to be burdened with her problems. He wasn't even really Ashu anymore, and one way or another, as far as she knew, in a week's time she would be dragged out of his life once again. And this time, she was certain, it would be forever.

But Brinson was another story, and right now she desperately needed some comfort. Being handed a death sentence by Gravitt was something she always expected, but certainly not like this.  She could feel the tears filling her eyes, and, after looking carefully up and down the hall for her master, she lightly knocked on Brinson's door.  He opened it almost immediately and upon seeing her, so alone and distraught, he asked the two most obvious questions. "What's wrong?! Where's Darian?!"

She shook her head as he pulled her inside the room and then into a gentle embrace. She whispered. "He's fine, but I need to talk to you."

Brinson drew her closer, clearly sensing her grief. "Tell me. Whatever it is that has you so upset, tell me."

In what seemed like one long breath she told him exactly what Robin had said—what her sickness was, how it could be controlled, and finally, how there was no real cure. She tried to be strong, and keep her voice from shaking and the tears from running down her face, but it was in vain. By the time she had finished surmising Robin's prognosis, there was a spreading wet spot on his shirt. 

She knew Brinson didn't know what to say; she wouldn't have either, had she been in his position. She didn't even have to mention Gravitt—Brinson would reach that conclusion himself. He nuzzled her hair, obviously ignoring the warning tingles that even that distant touch generated, and futilely trying to give them both some comfort. When it didn't work, he began to sing softly into her ear. It was a song he had written for her years ago, and even though his voice was strained at the moment, he still sang it beautifully, the delicately whispered words breaking the boundaries their touch could not.

_A falcon soars through the midnight sky  
Wings outstretched, she rides the wind   
Dancing with stars to the twilight song  
High above the world below  
Fear is a stranger never known  
Pain is a memory lost in time   
All her world is the magic tune  
And the dance that sets her free _

_ Hers is a heart that none can claim  
Though I've tried to win that prize  
I follow her to the moon and back  
High above the world below  
Her laughter joins melodic words  
Her eyes shine like the stars around us  
Reminding me that her one true love  
Is the dance that sets her free_

_My heart sings a song all of its own  
As I chase her among the heavens  
We fly as one through the ebony night   
High above the world below  
A child's game I'm not meant to win   
But I cannot surrender hope  
So I wait as we soar through the sky  
For the dance to set me free_

Sabre didn't acknowledge the end of his performance; she couldn't as she was still weeping into his chest. The tighter he held her, the more she cried. Gravitt was one problem, and realizing that she could never be with Brinson the way she so wanted to be was another. But the most important thing in her mind at the moment was Darian. Even if she left him with Brinson, then what would happen? It would only be a matter of time before Gravitt killed the both of them, too. What could they do? In one word, one second, it came to her.

Escape. 

It had always been an unthinkable solution. If they did manage to get away, Gravitt would eventually find them, and if they didn't, he'd find out their plan and kill the child. That was always the promise he held over his slaves' heads, and it slashed through her mind with the same wrath Gravitt had displayed when he had said it.  '_Escape and fail, you die.  Escape and succeed, and whatever family you leave behind will die… as will you once I track you down. And I always find my property no matter how far or fast they run._'  

But now, things were different. Vane was different: Gravitt was preoccupied with whatever he was up to, Marcus and Phillip weren't around, Vane was full of people, Brinson had some money, a port city was nearby, and Ashu probably knew his city and the land around it inside and out. So perhaps, just this once, it would be possible for all three of them to get away. Wouldn't it?  Neither of them had anyone left that Gravitt could touch, not if all three of them could escape him, here, now.

Brinson must have been thinking the same thing, because he whispered to her, "We need a plan. Even as sidetracked as he seems to be right now we will need a distraction, and most importantly, we need a direction. We'll have to do some research."

Lifting her head up she nodded, true optimism in her eyes for the first time in years. "Yes. And I think I can find help with that."

He looked a bit surprised and he seemed to stiffen slightly in her grasp, his gentle words more cutting than she expected. "Yes, I'd heard you made a friend, Sabre."

"Oh, no, Brinson. You've got that wrong. I mean, yes, Ashu will help us—"

He cut her off, in total surprise. "Ashu?  He's here?!"

Wiping her cheeks, she gave a small grin, "Yeah. You know him as Nash of Vane."

He shook his head, the surprise from only a moment ago being swept aside by this still greater one, "Nash is…okay, now I understand. But the rumors going around—"

"Are just rumors," she supplied. "Probably spread by Gravitt himself. Something big is going on—"

"Yes, it is.  I'm not sure of everything though, he's playing this one closer to his chest then he ever has before, and that scares me."

Sabra nodded, a new worry on her face.  "Now I fear putting my brother in the middle of this."

"Does anyone else know who he is?"

"No. I asked him to keep it a secret, though I didn't say why.  He's already suspicious of Gravitt, but I'm not sure of the details because I don't know what's going on." She sighed, "I don't think Ashu does either, because I as much as I hate to say it, he seems to have turned into an idiot savant."

Brinson nodded, "Then he'd best be careful, though I'm sure he can take care of himself—provided he can stay sober."

Sabre almost hit him for that, but couldn't and for the first time that day she almost laughed and, carefully, she leaned against his side enjoying the first taste of hope she'd known in years.  

****** 

Now armed with at least the start of a plan and knowing Brinson was with her in it, a refreshed Sabre walked down the long corridor to her own quarters. She slipped her key into her door and, with Brinson by her side, stepped into the room, looking around for Darian and Ashu. She was about to panic (and curse her brother) when one of her son's soprano squeals called her attention above her head.  As she looked up she saw the two of them floating in the air, almost touching the ceiling. She just glared at Ashu as Darian waved to her.

"Mommy! Look!"

"I see."

"Lookie! I can flip!"

She watched with a frightened cringe as her son pushed off the ceiling and did a somersault in the air a good three feet or so above her head. Her idiot brother just laughed. She decided she would kill him later, when she had a moment with nothing more important to do.

"Impressive!" Brinson said with a grin, but her glare silenced him.

Darian giggled louder and did another flip that caused her heart to sink. 

Ashu sensed her distress but just cast it aside. "What are you afraid of Sabre? It's perfectly safe. He's not going to get hurt."

"Is this what you do with your spare time? Put small children into mortal danger?"

He didn't answer her though the disappointment was obvious in his expression. Instead he carefully broke the spell and the two of them landed gently on their feet.

Darian wasn't happy and stomped as he hit the ground. "No! I wanna fly more!"

"Not now," Sabre said, as she gave quite an irate glower at the very large child standing in front of her, rather than looking directly at her son. "Perhaps if I ever leave you with Nash again--"

Her brother cut her off as he winked at the boy. "We'll do it. I promise."

"Yay!" Darian shouted as he hugged as much of Ashu as he could reach.

No matter how irritated and distraught she was, Sabre just couldn't stay mad at that moment when she saw her son latch onto her brother. She grinned at the two of them, and then glanced over at Brinson who was regarding the scene with very paternal eyes. Her best friend reached for her gloved hand and squeezed it, as if cueing her to introduce him. She smiled and did so in their language, a feeling of relief warming her as the two men shook hands and spoke words of friendship.

******

A ride was just what Sabre needed after her trying morning, and Ashu seemed to be the perfect company given the decent mood he was in. He led her out into the nearby forest, and for the first time that morning, a genuine, relaxed, smile crossed her face. It seemed it had been ages since she had smelled a true forest—and even longer since she felt this close to freedom, no matter how illusionary.

Freedom. Brinson's encouragement had raised her hopes for the first time since Ziggurat's death and she would do her part. Learning more about the surrounding area and the activities planned for the rest of the week were on the top of her agenda and critical to planning their escape.  A pang of guilt tugged at her for doing so, as she would have to gather the necessary information from Ashu, and using him like this had begun to bother her the more she thought about it.

Ashu. Riding next to him again was the realization of a dream she'd had over and over since leaving him in the burning tent.  And yet, having found him at last she felt more distant from him than when he had lived only in her dreams. Even the way he sat in the saddle seemed different. He carried himself like a man, and not like the little boy she had known. Sadly, the years had passed and there was nothing she could do to replace them. She so wanted to see him as a child again, with his ribbons in his hair and the laugh that always seemed to hide in his voice.  But this too was foolish as neither of them were children any more. She shook her head as she realized she would have to accept him for what he was—and what she was—now.  And, more bitterly, also accept the fact that they were on opposite ends of the world even if they now rode side by side.

He glanced at her and stopped his horse from the brisk walking pace the animals had chosen. She turned Matze back to face him. "What?"

"Nothing, Sabre."

"Then why did you stop?"

He gave her a small smile. "I was just looking at you and thinking how grown up you've become."

She snorted. "Well we are both twenty one years old, Ashu."

"Yeah, I know. But…but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know. I was just remembering how when we were kids I used to call you all sorts of horrible names, and say that you were ugly, but that's not true.  You're beautiful, Sabre. I really mean that. I'm also very sorry for the things I said.  I wish I could take them all back."

She grinned at him as her face flushed, "Such compliments and apologies aren't needed, Ashu. Kids can be hateful to each other, especially when they're related."

He laughed, "I guess you're right, but it still doesn't make it okay."

Sabre chuckled letting a smile burst over face.  "I know I am, I always was, remember?"  With a grin, she turned her horse to continue walking down the path.

He pushed his horse into a trot to catch her, "Wait! I have a question for you!"

She stopped Matze again, and the mare expressed her disgust with a nasty headshake. "What's the question?"

"Brinson. Tell me about him."

"That's the question? What do you want to know?"

He shrugged and looked away, "Well, Darian likes him a lot."

She sighed, "Yes, he does. And so do I."

"He still holds to the traditions, you know."

"Many of us do."

Ashu rubbed his neck, but said nothing. 

She lifted an annoyed eyebrow at him, secretly enjoying in the fact that she could _still _tell when he was hiding something. "What is it?"

Ashu took a breath and then looked away as he spoke, "When you went to get the horses and I was changing, he asked me for _yurfui_, which of course I gave him."

Sabre blushed again. "He is stuck in the ways of our people. Of course we have discussed marriage before, but it was simply not possible. I guess he was just trying to be proper, now that he knows you and who you are."

Ashu looked up at the sky, "Still Sabre, it doesn't feel right for me to be filling in for Father in such matters."

"I know," was the simple response. "But, as you said, Brinson still lives by the traditions of the Tribes, and since he was not from our tribe, it is only proper that he ask the man responsible for me.  With Father gone that leaves only you.  Odd as that may feel for both of us."  

"Not that anyone needs to be responsible for you.  It's insane to even have to think like that. You have a child and you've been married before. I think you should be in charge of your own life—if you wish to remarry, then do it."

She bit her lip as he reminded her of the lie she had told him. "You don't think a remarriage would be sacrilegious?"

"It might go against some of our old laws, but given what you've told me about your first husband, I can't see how anyone--even Althena--could see a second marriage as inappropriate. If anything, it would be the first true marriage for you."

"Yeah," she said hesitantly, a bitter taste of regret in her voice.  "I guess."

He glanced off, "People in Vane are allowed to remarry in situations like that—where one spouse has died."

"Would you?"

"Huh?" He sputtered, obviously a bit startled at the question.

"Would you remarry, Ashu? If your wife died?"

"I don't have a wife," came the response that sounded like he had just swallowed vinegar.

"But you will, someday, won't you? Or will your new position keep you from marriage?"

"I don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"I don't know if I will marry or if I am even allowed to."

"Was your predecessor married?"

"Only to his job."

"I'm sorry, Ashu. This subject is difficult for you. If you don't want to say any more on the topic, I understand. But if you do, I will listen."

He dropped the reins on his horse's neck to let it stretch down for some grass and sighed. "It was perfect, once, Sabre. The girl was perfect. We were really in love with each other; we had plans to make this place something really special. Even when our city was destroyed beyond any hope of repair, we pledged to work together until it was habitable again. And we did! Look at it! If you had seen it four years ago, you would have thought me insane. But for what it was worth, all the sacrifices we made, the two of us recreated this place—we worked day and night, and even when we didn't think we'd get through it, we always had each other. 

"And so, when things started to look like they were finally settling down, I thought I would ask her to marry me, but then she changed. I think it started after her mother died and it began to snowball until I couldn't even recognize her. She became almost obsessive. I wasn't as important as her city any more, and I accepted that. She had some things to work through, and I told her I'd do whatever she needed me to, even if it meant stepping back and letting her do whatever it was she felt she had to do. But still she remained distant.

"Finally she came to her senses, or seemed to at least. But then another disaster struck, or maybe reality was just colder than I had expected." He forced a laugh, "Reality."  He shook his head ever so slightly and continued, his voice more acrid than before. "So I guess by then the perfection had faded and it just wasn't meant to be. That's the cruel reality of many things, Sabre. They just aren't meant to be no matter how real the dreams may feel. Its not fate, its reality. Fate is just a name people give it so they can hate it. But there's no point. Reality is crushing, all powerful, unforgiving. Wars will be fought, people will die, hearts will be broken, but the world will still go on. This may not be what you wanted to hear, Sabre, but happiness is just a figment of one's imagination, and the son of two savages doesn't sleep in the bed of Vane's Guildmaster, no matter who or what he is pretending to be."

She had been afraid to exhale during his entire lecture, but he was done now and waiting for a response. In a tiny voice, punctuated by despair all she said was: "I never took you for a cynic, Ashu."

He shrugged, "I told you that people change, Sabre. Didn't you believe me?"

"Yes, I know that, but there is something more to this story. You told me that night in your room that no one here knows who you really are. So then, what difference does it make where you sleep?"

"It makes a difference to me."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?!" She snapped.

"It means that while she may not know, I know, and my conscious is killing me. She shouldn't be wasting her time with me, and if she knew she'd turn away from me even more than she has already."

"That is the biggest load of horseshit that I've heard in awhile. From what you've said, she obviously cares about you, and from what I've seen, and heard, the feeling is mutual. I don't see the problem. So what if you are not from this city. Who cares! You said yourself that you are changing the laws and welcoming everyone."

He sighed, "It's more complicated than that, Sabre. Besides, I think the last time we had this discussion, you were the one who asked me to wait until after you left to say anything."

She coughed, he was right. "Fair enough, Ashu."

He stared at her, "So Brinson. Will you marry him?  Do you want to?"

"Maybe someday," she whispered, and then took the opportunity to change the subject as she pointed out into the thick forest. "Where do these woods go? It seems like we've been going in circles."

He pointed ahead of them, "Another six or seven hours that way at a gallop lies Meribia, the port city. We haven't been going in circles, but the scenery all looks the same to anyone that hasn't spent time in these woods. Someone could really get lost out here if they didn't know what they were doing."

_Perfect._

She edged her horse into a gentle lope without even looking back to see if he was following. She tried to commit to memory the look of the trees—especially the way they bent along the road. When she reached a fork, she stopped, and moment later, Ashu pulled up alongside her. "A little warning would be appreciated, you know."

She nodded in half-acknowledgement, and asked, "Which way to Meribia?"

"Either. The right is faster since it skirts the hill country and is fairly open and flat. Why? We can't go there today." He gave her a lopsided grin. "Besides, I don't think it's really your kind of place. Just a big, noisy city full of even more crazy people than Vane."

She glared at him, "You're probably right, but I'm just curious." As he turned his horse around, she dismounted.

"What are you doing?"

"Leaving a sign."

"Why?"

"Why not? We have been blessed with this beautiful day and a good, safe ride. It is only right to show some respect to the Goddess."

He didn't argue with her, but instead asked, "What's with your brother in law lately?"

She drew the sign in the dirt near the right side of the tree. "Is he causing you trouble?"

"Not yet, but I can't escape the feeling that's its coming."

She wasn't sure how to answer, since the feeling that she was betraying Ashu was killing her. After a glance around, she said softly, "He is as dumb as a fox. Don't trust him with anything or anyone you value."

"So he is up to something?"

"I don't know. All that I do know is that he is capable of horrible things."

Ashu nodded and then asked,  "What about those canisters? The ones they were putting up when we left?"

"I don't know much about them. All I do know is that he got them from some smelly man in a town just outside of Vane. They didn't travel with us all the way from the Stadius Zone. I know. I packed most of the bags."

"Interesting. Can you describe the man?"

"No. I didn't see his face, but when he walked past me, he reeked."

"Of what?"

"Steel and grease," she said as she gave Matze a pat on the neck.

Ashu closed his eyes, and he seemed to say a silent prayer as he dismounted next to her. "Please, Sabre. Tell me anything you know. The man, what did he sound like?"

"I didn't hear him speak."

"Did Gravitt bring any fancy jewelry? Like a necklace with a large pendant?"

Her palms were sweating. "I don't think so. Briggatt's jewel mines closed years ago. I don't know if he brought anything from the vault. I'm not allowed in there."

"How about this--does Gravitt know any mages? Anyone who can manipulate magic to an object?"

"I don't know." 

"Think, Sabre! Come on, you've got have some idea what he's up to or at least know the people he's associated with!" He was getting impatient, perhaps frightened, and wasn't bothering to hide it anymore.

She looked around nervously. "I'm sorry, Ashu. I can't."

She felt a rush of magic around him—his temper had cracked, and while she knew he could control his Gift, it still scared her. "What do you mean you can't? Can't or won't? Which is it, Sabre?!"

She shook her head, "Please don't ask me anymore, Ashu. There are lives at stake here."

"There are more lives at stake with those canisters, Sabre!  A lot more than just yours or mine! Those damn things are going to kill countless innocent people! Gravitt may have sold his little 'gift' to the Council, but I know they are deadly! I found out myself just yesterday! If Artie hadn't been as fast as she was, you'd be attending my funeral, not my inauguration!" 

She felt her eyes begin to water as her loyalties ripped at her heart. 

"But we have a chance to stop it. Don't you see? Gregory will help, Robin and Artie, too. Then Mia will have to listen if you know where those things came from or what Gravitt wants with or from Vane." 

She put a hand to face, trying to hide the shame she was feeling, and then looked up, "Ashu, I swear, I don't know anything else."

Then his face showed a sudden realization of horror. "You're involved, aren't you? Your life is on the line here, isn't it?"

She had forced the tears back, but still gave a strained answer. "My life is meaningless, Ashu. And no, I'm not involved. Not directly, anyway."

"How are you involved?"

"I am here, and that's all it takes," she whispered as she turned to mount her horse.

Without warning he reached out, gently grabbed her covered wrist, and tried to turn her around. The sudden action took her by surprise and she shrieked in terror, raising her hands instinctively to defend herself.  As quickly as it had begun, the paralyzed look on Ashu's face told her she had been wrong.  He was so shocked at her reaction that he dropped his soft grasp on her and just asked, "Sabre, are you all right?"

She shook her head. "I don't like people grabbing me from behind."

"All right. I'm sorry."

"You didn't know, its okay," was the curt response.

He nodded, and watched silently as she swung herself back into the saddle. Following her lead, he did the same and turned his horse to start the ride back to Vane. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sabre looked over at him with a forced grin, trying anything to break this horrible moment "So, how about a bit of a race, brother? You never could keep up with me, on foot or horseback—especially on horseback. Let's see if you've gotten any better in all the years you've been away."

Wherever his thoughts were, they returned long enough to garner a response. "Hmm…sounds interesting, but let's make a wager."

"Oooh, you're sounding confident," she teased. "Okay, I'm game, what's the bet?"

"If I win, you agree to accompany me to the reception tonight."

"And if I win?"

"Name something, and I'll do it."

She smirked, "You'll wear a traditional headdress to your inauguration!"

"Uhh…"

She laughed, "Your rules, I'm just following them."

"Fine," he said with a wink. "But now I can't afford to lose!"

******

The party—or rather the reception, as Ashu had called it—was like nothing that Sabre had ever seen in her life. The large square in front of the Guild manor had been transformed into a magnificent banquet hall. Pike staves adorned with glowing balls formed a warm circle around the entire party while providing a mystic sort of light. People of all walks of life wandered amongst the party, finding their seats, socializing and just enjoying the hospitality of Vane.

She clung to her brother's arm and they walked through the congregation, noticing that almost everyone seemed to be staring at them--at _her._ As insane as it was, she was convinced she could hear the whispered comments, feel the disapproving looks, and cringed at once again at being judged by hostile strangers. She knew this was a mistake—one that they would both pay dearly for.  But a bet was a bet, and while Ashu wanted her at this reception for whatever reason, she knew it might give her a chance to learn what Gravitt was up to, and when they could hope to escape.  Besides, while she would never admit it aloud, she wanted to be here, and had even had let her brother win the race, much to the dismay of her pride.

She smiled hesitantly as a guard positioned near the head table stood at attention, snapping his spear to his side as they passed him. It was an odd feeling to be with someone commanding such power from others—especially considering force or the promise of death was not involved in that demand.

Ashu gave her a wink as he pulled and slid the chair second from the end of the table out for her and then took his own seat to her right. Before she could even blink, two young ladies seemed to appear out of nowhere and swiftly filled the ornate goblets before them with equal measures of water and wine. She couldn't help but notice that they both seemed to take a bit too long to serve her brother, and felt a smile forming on her lips as she watched them leave, giggling between themselves. 

"Friends of yours?" She asked him playfully.

"Not quite. They're apprentices--the blonde is Norma and the brunette is Danielle. Nice kids but still first year students."

Sabre laughed as she followed his glance towards the departing pair, deliberately misinterpreting the look.  "They are too young for you, Ashu. Although some much more important people here look very young and seem to dress like apprentices."

He coughed, his expression a curious mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Let's not discuss that, please."

She dropped the subject out of respect, but was still embarrassed about the incident in his room. A piece of her was angry with the Guildmaster—why didn't Mia say who she was?  Why did the woman let her think she was just another student in the huge school?  If she'd known, then perhaps she could have controlled her tongue a bit more. She regretted being rude almost as much as she did interrupting the two of them when she went back to look for her shirt. Before she could think of something to say, or to apologize for her brashness, she turned to her left and saw an older man with a kind face and salt and pepper hair sitting in the chair next to her. She hadn't heard him approach—it was more like he just appeared out of nowhere—but sure as she was Tribal, he was sitting there, looking at her with a grin.

The man gave a smirk to Ashu. "Ah, so you've been demoted already? I would have guessed it to have taken a bit longer."

Her brother just shrugged as he took a sip from his cup, wincing as he realized it was the goblet holding the wine and quickly exchanged it for the water. She wished that he would remember his manners and introduce this strange man. She sensed something from him. It wasn't a bad feeling but it was very, very, odd. Before she could ask the man's name (since Ashu wasn't being much help) he raised his glass to the two of them and, with a wink, spoke in the Tribal language: "Miha faqi kinashua misha poori jenki selia."

Sabre grinned and her brother tapped their glasses with the man's—whoever he was, he at least knew her first language, and horrible accent or not, that was something. As she finished her sip of wine and started to respond, the blonde woman sitting next to the man leaned over. "Gregory, what nonsense are you spouting now?"

With an impish smile Gregory replied, "Something that sadly you cannot begin to comprehend, Master Robin. But to satisfy your curiosity, it roughly translates to: May hope and love guide your future."

Robin snorted, and then, looking up towards the center seat of their table, spoke to Gregory quietly.  "I don't see much hope for us at the moment. Not as long as that cursed necklace is involved. Every day she--it becomes worse.  And if steps aren't taken soon it may become irreversible."

Gregory took a sip of his wine and agreed,  "Though there may be many things driving our Guildmaster at the moment, I'm confident that her current condition is rooted in that thing, though I'm convinced it goes much deeper than just the necklace."

Nash smirked at all of them as he leaned over Sabre, speaking to the older man as though she wasn't even present. "Of course it does, but it gives us a place to start. I've taken the liberty of handling that, but I'm going to your need help for it to work."

"What kind of help?" Robin asked sharply.

"You'll see tomorrow."

"And who said I was going to help you anyway?"

"I did," Gregory said with a wink. "You know how I love surprises. Especially when they're on someone else."

Sabre really wanted to hear the response to that, but Robin just gave the old man a glare that could raise the dead and then slay them again.

Apparently sensing the healer's skepticism, the velvet-voiced man responded to her playfully, "Haven't you learned by now not to doubt me, Robin? Show some faith for a change. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to practice a bit of my Tribal on this lovely young lady. It's been many years since I had so pleasant an opportunity."

The blonde glared at him as Ashu laughed. 

Gregory feigned innocence as he teased her. "Don't tell me you're jealous, Robin?"

It was a clipped response that came: "Not in the slightest, Master Gregory." And then the woman turned away to engage in other conversation though Sabre couldn't help but see the occasional glances she gave the older man from moment to moment.

Sabre actually felt a giggle slip through her lips at the way the man handled the testy blonde. He gave her a wink and spoke to her again in the Tribal language. "I suppose your brother isn't going to introduce me, eh, Nash?" He looked over to the now almost scandalized man with a smile.  "Sad, how we have failed to properly educate our young men in proper manners and conduct." The voice, though it wasn't comfortable wrapping around the coarse gutturals of Tribal, held the unmistakable tone of a gentle tease.

How did the man know who she was! She looked at Ashu. He smiled hesitantly and then brought the conversation back into the common language. "Sabre, this is Gregory Telka, Master of Illusion Magic and…well…he knows everything."

Despite her stunned expression, the Illusionist spoke again in Tribal, "Everything? I should be so lucky, or cursed.  No, not everything, but I do know of you, your family, and your brother.  Who, I might add, has become very special to me."

"Special?"

Ashu turned away. Something was making him uncomfortable.

The man gave a proud, crow footed smile and hesitated before speaking again. "Your brother is also my son."  He paused as he allowed the statement to soak in but quickly spoke again before she could allow her response to fully form.  "I know that among your people, leaving your family and choosing another is considered a sin, one of the greatest a person could commit.  But I assure you that I am not trying to replace anyone or anything.  I know that would be both impossible and horribly wrong.  But I needed a family, just as Nash did.  And I honor your parents in my own way, and have only asked that he accept my name _along_ with theirs—not in place of theirs."

She smiled at the man, even though by tradition she should hate him, he was right and seemed very kind. Somehow, she couldn't even be angry with him. She wondered if he had put some sort of spell on her, but decided if anything, he just had an inordinate amount of charisma.

Her brother coughed, "You're…okay with this, Sabre?"

She replied in the common language to him, sighing as she felt herself release a thousand years of tradition, praying she was making the right decision.  "Yes. I know it does go against our beliefs, but you are lucky to have Gregory."

"Ah," the old man began, "I don't know if I'd call it luck, but I do care a great deal about him, even when he is being unbearable."

"Which I'm sure is quite often, knowing Ashu," she teased.

"Well, he does have his moments, but they aren't so bad, I guess."

Her brother smiled at the two of them. "Sabre, I know you've said that you aren't interested in staying here, but will you at least stay until Saturday? It would mean a lot to me if you were here for my inauguration."

She hesitated. Would Gravitt be staying that long? She believed he would, but then another thought crossed her mind—such an event would certainly be enough of a distraction for her, Brinson and Darian to get away. And yet, she couldn't refuse him. Even knowing that she might be dragged away, or should be on the run, this was something she had to be there for. So, with a smile she just nodded. 

Gregory put a gentle hand on her shoulder, "I'll be sure to find you a seat near the front."

She smiled at the Illusionist again; his touch was different than any that she'd ever felt. She didn't even notice her skin prickle like it normally did when someone like Brinson would give her a soft pat on the back. _This man in not normal, and yet I feel very safe near him. _

The food was served then, and Sabre nearly gasped as she saw it and smelled how delicious it had to be.  Never in her life had she seen such an exquisite meal, and decided that come hell or high water she would enjoy it. The conversation was kept light, even when Robin interrupted with some sort of remark that yielded a sarcastic yet humorous reply from Gregory. The two of them were quite a pair, and she secretly wondered how they managed to work together without becoming totally hostile, or perhaps there was more between them than they let on?

******

The reception was still going on as Sabre excused herself from the festivities. Gregory had done his best to keep her there, and as much as she was tempted to learn more about the unusual man, it had been an emotionally exhausting day and all she really wanted to do was to tell Darian goodnight and go to bed. 

As she entered the Guild Manor, her footsteps echoed in the vast atrium, but there seemed to be no one to hear them. She lifted the hem of the dress Ashu had bought for her and walked up the stairs, again cursing the inconvenience of her trappings. As she reached the third floor, the sound of hushed voices caught her ear. Knowing full well that whispers usually meant secrets and secrets usually meant problems, she slunk up against the nearest column and listened.

A man's voice was the first she heard. "People are starting to notice the difference."

And then a woman spoke--a very infuriated woman. "What, are _you_ telling me to back off?"

"Yes. I think this has gone too far," was the hesitating response.

The woman's smirk carried to Sabre's ears as she snipped, "Too far? It is just beginning."

"Then it's not too late to stop it!"

A snort came before the reply, "It's years too late to stop it, and I take offense at even the suggestion.  I will not stop it! This is our chance. Our best and only chance."

The man seemed to find his courage, for his tone grew darker. "I don't want it anymore. I don't want you to hurt her."

"A change of heart?  It's far too late for that now--not that it would make any difference. Besides, had you been able to carry out your duties that none of this would have been necessary." The female said flippantly.

The man was emphatic as he whispered, "I made a simple mistake, but I'm glad that I did. I can't stand to see her like this—you've twisted her reality with that charm so much that she doesn't even know who she is anymore!" He paused, and then admitted rather bleakly, "I'd rather see her with that jackass than turned into your puppet!"

She scolded him again, "We shouldn't be having this discussion here! We shouldn't be having this discussion at all! You are as weak as she is! I shouldn't have wasted my power or the Amise drops on you! Perhaps then you wouldn't have forgotten the necklace."

_Ashu asked about a necklace…_

He growled, "You hexed her? You hexed me!?

There was a pause before the soft, yet arrogant reply came. "I knew you wouldn't be able to accomplish the task on your own. You are as weak as your father, and twice as stupid! So yes, I had to give her to you."

Out of the corner of her eye, Sabre saw a flash of light, and then heard a single set of footsteps quickly approaching the other side of her protective column. She held her breath and tried to hide, but it didn't do any good. Suddenly standing before her was a tall, black haired man she didn't know. He glared at her in fury for an instant, and then ran down the stairs without so much as saying a word.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

_**If Love Were Only Part of the Equation **_

Chapter Sixteen

_"Be good and you will be lonesome."—Mark Twain _

Happy laughter was the last sound Gregory expected to hear coming from Nash's suite, but it still caused a smile to spread over the old man's face as he paused outside the half-closed door. Given all the gloom and doom around the Guild lately, it was refreshing to see that even Nash hadn't lost his sense of humor. Still smiling, the ageless mage pulled the door and stepped through, but did not interrupt the vibrant conversation still going on in the parlor around him. 

"Well that's not how I remember it," Alex said. 

Nash grinned as they both looked at Kyle, "Nor I." 

"You're both making this up!" Kyle shouted in mock anger. "I never did anything like that!" 

"Come on now, its harmless. Just admit it!" Nash teased. 

"Harmless? Do you have any idea of what something like that would do to my reputation? " Kyle said as he glared jokingly at his friends. "These accusations are pure crap and you know it!" 

"Hey, we all saw you dressed like a girl!" A shrill voice coming from above the group shouted. "Don't lie about it!" 

"I'm not denying it happened, you miserable rat with wings! I'm denying that I enjoyed it!" Kyle said, making futile attempts to grab the white dragonet flying tight circles just above his head. The creature dodged him playfully, and then shot across the room—right into Gregory's face. 

"Aiyee!" The small dragon screamed as he came nose to nose with the old man who came to an even more abrupt stop as the leathery wingtips brushed against his cheeks. 

"Looks like you're in trouble now, Nall," Alex said with a grin. 

"Gregory!" Nash exclaimed as he stood up, surprise and embarrassment mixing on his face. "How long have you been there?" 

With a chuckle the older mage dodged Nall's flapping wings and moved around him. "Long enough to know that Kyle likes to dress like a woman." As the large man started to object, he added: "Don't worry, Nash. I won't tell your friends about any of your little idiosyncrasies." 

"Oooh," Alex said. "Now you've got me intrigued." 

Gregory gave a wink to his son as he moved towards the center of the room, with Nall still fluttering nervously over his head. "Let's see…how about the time I threw you out of class for—" 

Suddenly Nall shrieked as he made an attempt to land on the Illusionist, his wings buffeting the salt and pepper hair as his tail attempted to curl around the old man's shoulder to give him a more solid grip. 

Nash looked at the two of them, clearly forgetting whatever it was they had been discussing before the shrill interruption. "What's wrong?" 

"This guy smells strange!" The cat-like creature panted in near hysteria. 

"Nall!" Alex corrected sharply as the animal launched itself from the tentative perch on Gregory's shoulder and flew just above his master's head, ruffling his russet hair. 

"Its true," the dragonet retorted as he took to a higher, safer, altitude. "He smells very weird, not right… not human right." 

"I'm very sorry, sir. I wish I could control his mouth--" 

Gregory gave a humble smile. "No need for apology, Master Alex. I understand your predicament. It's a common problem for the very young. They tend to blurt out things before thinking them through." 

The room held a collective breath as Nall found a perch at the top of a bookshelf, where he began cleaning his wings. Once the troublesome creature had released himself from the center of attention, Nash spoke. "So what brings you here, Gregory?" 

"Ah, just coming by to see if you needed any help with your endeavors." 

"Not at the moment. The items I ordered should be ready this afternoon." 

"Where did you find them?" 

"One of the merchants here. His name was Roland Morstrum." 

Gregory felt his face darken at the mention of the name. He knew this man, and he knew him too well for his own liking. He looked at Nash, "Let me pick them up for you. Enjoy your time with your friends." 

"You don't need to do that Gregory. Besides, if we get caught, I should be to be the one to get in trouble." 

Kyle interrupted, "What could you get in trouble for, Nash?" 

"A lot of things, more than I want to think about." Nash said, his face holding a frown for only a second before he covered it with a small smile. "But for the moment I'm doing, or rather, trying to do, something quite underhanded to Mia—for her own good, of course. I just wish knowing that made me feel less like a heel for having to do it." 

"You'll have to explain that to me later," he said and then backed up to stand quietly near Alex, who was also wearing a puzzled look. 

"Yes I do need to help you, son." Gregory said sternly. "Besides I know Roland from before your time. Perhaps I can talk him into a discount for you." 

"I've already paid for them in full." 

The old man shook his head as he continued. "With Roland, nothing is paid in full. Trust me on that. Now go, have lunch with your friends and don't concern yourself with this matter any more. I'll let you know once I have them." 

"Gregory—" 

"Don't argue with me," the Illusionist interrupted, more sternly than intended. 

Nash didn't flinch at the change of the old man's voice but still gave a quiet response. "I was just going to say that if you need some extra money, you know where I keep it." 

Gregory nodded, but before he could answer or curse Roland's name, the door to the suite creaked open. The hesitant entrant lingered outside a moment, and then finally stuck her head into the room. Upon her notice of the group, she just said, "Oh, you are busy, Ashu. I will come back." 

Sooner than Nash had a chance to invite her in, the redhead had disappeared. By the time he had reached the door, she was gone from the hallway entirely. 

"Who was that?" AskedKyle. "I saw you with her last night, but you must have forgotten to bring her down to our side of the table." 

Nash scratched the back of his neck, and gave the answer with a grin. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." 

The large man grinned as he teased the mage. "Of course I wouldn't! I don't know why a woman would spend any time with you, unless you're paying her." 

"You're disgusting! Shut up!" Nash spat, the coldness and obvious outrage in his voice killing any and all humor left in the room. 

Kyle swallowed the laugh that was forming on his lips, apparently unaware that his comment would enrage Nash so much. The air was tense as the two stared at each other, one waiting for an apology and the other actually showing some degree of remorse. 

Finally, Alex spoke gently. "Although he was being tasteless, I don't think Kyle meant any harm." 

The ageless mage chuckled deeply as he reached out to touch his son's shoulder. "You know he's right, and I've heard worse from you." 

The others smiled and turned to look at the young mage, who was still gritting his teeth in infuriated silence. It did not last long, for a moment later, Kyle and Nash were shaking hands, and the three departed for a much-needed and friendly lunch. 

****** 

Standing in front of the Guild Manor gave Gregory a view of an entirely different landscape. Set up at various points around the city wall were ropes, pulleys and other pieces of equipment he couldn't name. Apparently Artie and her team were working quickly to fulfill Mia's wish. _Too quickly_ he thought to himself. He shook his head in disbelief. It was all too surreal. 

He strode out of the square, and through the city's gate, until just a few lengths beyond, someone caught his eye. Artie was leaning against the wall, taking a sip from a flask, and cursing at some invisible enemy. A grin formed on his lips as he approached her, praying that the news she had for him was good. 

"Learn any more about these things?" He asked as he gestured to the enormous canister lying on the ground about ten yards away. 

"Not much," she replied as she put the flask back on her belt. "But a little." 

"Such as?" 

"First off, there are thirteen of them. Twelve that look like that one--about five foot in diameter and maybe twelve feet tall. The last one is taller and wider. I was instructed to put that one in the town center. The rest are to go around the wall as if the city were a clock." 

"One on each hour?" 

"Yeah. I don't know, it just feels… odd." Artie replied as she yanked her bandana off her head and used it to wipe the sweat from her face. 

Gregory ignored her statement for a moment. "Who gave you the directions?" 

"Gravitt, of course," she said, her tone cursing his name. 

"How fast are they going up?" 

"Too fast. Since yesterday, three. We're working on the fourth now. We've gotten a system down, but I wish I had a way to discourage some of the enthusiasm. These people don't know what they're in for." 

"A system?" The Illusionist asked skeptically. 

It was a rote explanation that came from the tired engineer. "Yeah, my guys dig a hole a foot deep while Mia's guards unload them off the carts. Then my men string them up to the pulleys while the guards use a lever to give them some incline, and then we all just pull on the ropes until they settle into a vertical position. Then we just lower them down into the cavity. A few hours with wedges and crossbars to lock them into place and we're done. Sounds easy, but its pretty heavy manual labor." 

Gregory's eyes narrowed. "Mia's guards are out here with you?" 

The young woman gave a crooked smile full of disbelief. "Yeah. How some of these folks made it into her elite guard, I'll never know. I mean, I grew up working on the docks and I thought I knew stupid. I was wrong. Some of those 'elite' guards would lose to a rock in a spelling contest." 

"I don't like this at all." 

"Which part of it?" Artie asked as she replaced the bandana to its home atop her head. 

"All of it, but the most disturbing issue at the moment would be the fact that our Guildmaster is walking around a city full of strangers completely unprotected." 

Artie actually looked a bit remorseful. "I told her I didn't need them all, but she snapped at me and said 'get it done.' She's really been on the rampage the last few days." 

"Yes, I've noticed. I'll go see Alastair about this right now, since I doubt he would allow it to happen. But before I do, have you learned anything else about that metal?" 

"I haven't found it mentioned anywhere else—or the stones for that matter. I wonder if they even exist or if this is some sort of enormous illusion." 

"No, its not. Its very real." 

She leaned back against the wall, gazing at the old mage and perhaps starting to wonder how he could sound so sure. "Incredible. I don't understand this. First Ghaleon destroys Vane, and now some other loony is trying to do the same thing. And both times they seem to think they're doing us a favor." She frowned for a moment, shaking her head. "Even crazier—this time I'm helping!" 

He frowned, "We're not exactly sure what Gravitt wants, but I don't think we'd be any value to him as rubble." 

"Maybe. But these things aren't safe. They just don't feel right. This whole idea to make the city fly again just doesn't feel right." 

Gregory couldn't argue with her. All of the legends surrounding the Floating City gave it a specific purpose—to protect the Goddess and her tower. Neither existed any more, so why should Vane fly? 

"Master Gregory?" She asked, a little aggravation in her voice. Apparently she had been posing a question, and he wasn't paying any attention. 

"Huh?" 

"You think there's someone else involved? Someone on the inside?" 

The thought had crossed his mind, but he wasn't ready to leap to that conclusion." I don't know. I wouldn't like to accuse any of our own when there hasn't even been a crime committed yet. Well, perhaps I should say at least not without some proof or an idea of who it could be." 

Artie took another sip from her flask. "Yet being the operative word. I saw what that small one did to Nash. There's no way even Vane can keep them powered—especially considering how big these things are." 

An idea suddenly came to him. "Do you have one of those demonstration canisters?" 

"There's the one in my room that Nash was walking around with. Why?" 

"I know someone who might be able to tell us some more on these. I'd like to borrow it for a bit, if you don't mind." 

****** 

All of the merchants Vane's Festival had attracted were gathered on the streets, using tents and wagons to peddle their wares. It took Gregory a good bit of time to retrieve Artie's canister, talk to Alastair about the guards, and then locate the man he was looking for amidst all of the commotion. It wasn't that Roland was hard to spot—quite the opposite actually—but just getting down the packed street was a challenge as he tried to avoid the pickpockets, over-zealous tradesmen trying to make a sale, and the piles of trash and dung that had be deposited by the animals of the visitors. _This is a disgrace…We'll have to get a crew out here to take care of the mess before tomorrow's ceremony._

Finally the Illusionist saw the tent he had been looking for. It was rather large in comparison to the others, but Roland's signature colors of black and white made it stand out against the carnival of brighter hues. 

Pushing back the curtain, his eyes fixed hard on the merchant. Their history was a long one, dating back decades, but nothing had changed about either of them. Roland was still a man too large for his ego, and Gregory still disliked him intensely. 

"Good afternoon, Roland," the ageless mage said flatly. 

The white-haired merchant turned around to face his new customer as a smirk formed on his leather skin. "Gregory Telka…it has been what? A lifetime? Two?" 

"Not nearly enough of them, if you must know." 

Roland waved him to a seat at the small table in the center of the tent, and then took his position on the opposite side. "I see you're still sore about our last encounter, yet you're still willing to do business with me? You must be more desperate than I had thought, considering your feelings about me after that unfortunate incident." 

Sitting down, Gregory raised an eyebrow, but didn't let the man fluster him in the slightest. "Not quite. Let's just say, that at the risk of flattering you, I know your work and I know it is good." 

"Indeed. I rarely have a dissatisfied customer." 

Gregory snorted at the other's arrogance. "Few that survived to complain, anyway. Do you have it ready? The object Nash ordered?" 

"Objects, you mean. Yes, they are here and they're yours as soon as we've settled a final issue or two." 

"Payment has already been made." 

"Ah, no. Just a deposit, since the young man hasn't paid for my silence. That is often the most critical part of any transaction. As you may recall, it is usually twenty five percent of the purchase price. Or, if important enough, a bit more." 

"I refuse to pay such a ridiculous sum for silence I don't need." 

Roland flashed a mendacious smile. "Ah, but what is stopping me from running to your Guildmaster and telling her that her heirloom jewelry is a beautiful fake?" 

Gregory frowned. "I'd like to see you try. You'd have to get through a dozen guards, myself, three other Council members, and a very impulsive Premier before you could even talk to her." 

"Tut, tut. Don't insult my intelligence old man. I've noticed that her guards are out working on a project, the Councilors (not unlike yourself) are running ragged to keep order, and this new Premier is very good at making himself scarce." He smirked again, his teeth set like daggers waiting to be thrown. "I always know my customers, Gregory." 

An angle he didn't want to use was becoming necessary. "I disagree. You seem to have forgotten that you owe your life to me several times over. As such I would think an exception would be made in your despicable business practices." 

Roland considered a moment and then spoke, "I knew you were desperate, and desperate people—" 

Gregory rose slightly out of his seat and leaned across the table. "Silence! Split all the hairs and spout all the rhetoric you want at me, but remember what you are and what I can do to you. How about an image that never leaves you…one that feeds on your darkest fears for an eternity!" 

The merchant was clearly not expecting his opponent to lose his patience so quickly, but still countered in a bored tone. "Bringing up bygones is not going to get you results, and the last man who threatened me wound up with a knife in his eye." 

The Illusionist had reached his limit on dealing with his individual. Pressing his palms together, he began to chant. It was a spell the merchant knew well—it was the spell that almost killed him the last time he had tried to swindle Gregory Telka. 

Before he could protest, the spell had been cast. Roland was standing with his back to a pike, surrounded by flames—scorching, biting flames. Fire. He loathed it! He'd rather freeze to death than touch a damn fire! And here it was, trying to consume him! He wanted to scream, but the smoke was filling his mouth and nose. He gagged at the stench of his own flesh burning, as the fire turned blue with intensity. 

An annoyed baritone voice broke through the hell. "Are you ready to be reasonable, Roland?" 

He forced a nod, and immediately the delusion vanished. Roland knew it was an illusion, but was obviously questioning the intensity of it. Why were his robes still smoldering? Why could he still taste the brimstone and tar? 

Gregory smirked at him. "Remember those Tribesmen that that wanted to kill you when you sold them fake charms two score ago? I imagine they would be very amused to learn that you are deathly afraid of fire, and less so to learn you're still alive." 

Roland was still sweating as he pulled on the collar of his black shirt. "You shouldn't have been able to do that. I wear charms against such spells." 

Gregory grabbed him around the neck. "I know magic for which there is no defense. I would be glad to demonstrate some more of it if you'd like." The ageless mage suddenly looked younger than his sixty or so years as fingers stronger than iron bands locked around Roland's throat. With a smirk, he waved his free hand, which glowed in an unearthly black hue. 

The defeated merchant held up his hands as more perspiration fell from his face. He stuttered his reply through dry lips. "Fine. Strictly as a gesture of our long friendship and the respect we share for each other, I will forgo my usual…consulting fee and any profits from other parties involved in your scheme." 

"A wise decision," the Illusionist said. As he released the man, the glimmering mist surrounding his other hand faded into nothingness and he gave a stern warning. "Keep to your word about your silence or I will be forced to let that image play out fully for you." 

As fast as he could move his large frame away from the mage, the white haired merchant disappeared from the table to rummage behind a chest at the back of the tent. He quickly returned with a large ornate box that bore the seal of the Ausa family. Sitting back down, he slid it to the other for inspection. 

Gregory opened the package and looked down at its shimmering contents. Inside was a gold necklace, with a large, heavy, crimson stone set in the center. It was simple, yet elegant. Also in the box was a golden crown, with another red heartstone at its center. Wrapped around and trailing away from this gem were rows of diamonds, perfectly fitted into the tiara. Both were exquisitely made, and beautiful to behold, but most importantly, the magic he sensed from both objects was purely neutral. 

Smiling, he set the jewelry off to the side and glared again at Roland. "They are satisfactory, not up to your usual standards, but acceptable given the short notice. Now, I need some information." 

"That has always come at a price," Roland said, a tinge of fear catching in his voice. 

Gregory placed twenty silver on the table. "That is expected." 

"What is it you need information on?" The merchant asked as he drew the coins towards himself. 

"It's a who. Gravitt of Briggatt. As someone who deals in gems and jewelry of questionable origin, I'm sure you know of him." 

"Of course I know of him, I know him quite well, actually. Business has been slow in his area, but I've made sure not to burn any bridges. Not that I expect to return there any time soon, given the way he's run the place into the ground." 

Gregory raised an eyebrow, waiting for the other to continue. 

Roland glanced down at the small pile of silver, obviously resisting the temptation to try and increase its size. "You know that for the last thousand years Briggatt has been a thriving city with some of the finest jewel mines on Lunar, but ever since Gravitt's been in power there the place has gone to hell in a hand basket." 

"Example?" The Illusionist asked as he drummed his fingers on the table. 

"Example. No one lives there, save a few loyal followers, and the slaves those followers oversee for him. The honest citizens fled for their lives the night he killed his father." 

"Are you sure of this?" 

"It's a rumor, but one that I can believe. There are other rumors, too." He said, glancing down at the pittance before him. 

Gregory placed another twenty silver in front of the man. "Tell me." 

"Let's see now…" He paused for effect before continuing. "Well, how about the rumor that many of the small towns out that way are said to have been leveled by him and his group?" 

"Leveled? You mean Destroyed? How?" 

"The rumors have little in common, some claim by fire, some by landslide, others… simply became empty. One day a crowded and happy village filled with happy people, the next, not a living soul in sight. Sometimes, not even any rubble." 

Gregory glared at him again, fire flashing in his eyes. "Your information is becoming less interesting by the moment. Rumors of death and destruction are part of life. And like most I suspect largely made up by braggarts and liars seeking attention." He hesitated a moment and then asked, "And by what group?" 

Roland winced at the real sparks, which for only a brief second, dashed in his nemesis's eyes. "Group is perhaps too large a term, since I gather the actual numbers are rather small. Some of them…" He paused again, this time looking down at the pile of silver. "Come to think of it, I recall his father telling me about a purchase that he made that might be of interest to you." 

Gregory didn't reach for his purse. "You said there were other rumors and I have paid for them, yet you've only given me one." 

"But this is a fact. It comes at a higher price." 

Reluctantly, Gregory added another ten silver to the pile. 

"Ziggratt bought two Tribals with unusual magic as children to be playmates for his son. The slavers that sold them even warned him about them. Apparently they were too much for their respective tribes to handle." 

Gregory gritted his teeth. "Slavery of any sort disgusts me, but I fail to see the connection." 

Roland stretched as he feigned boredom. "I'm not surprised. Sometimes you are really unobservant, Telka. You sat next to one at last night's dinner. The other is here as well." 

The Illusionist felt his anger rise and his heart sink. Still, he controlled himself. Information was key, and this man, no matter how disgusting he was, peddled it generously. "He didn't free them?" 

"Ziggratt told me that he agreed to free them on their eighteenth birthdays, but Gravitt went back on his father's word apparently because they still follow him. Unless of course, its by choice." 

"I don't think so. I can't conceive of anyone willingly remaining in slavery if given any choice in the matter." 

This time Roland had the mage's attention and he knew it. "Or…well, it could…be…" 

Gregory frowned and pulled the leather pouch from his belt. Another ten silver were thrown to the man, who smiled. 

The merchant swept his hand down over the coins, as though pulling them towards him. With the gesture they vanished and he continued. "It could be the fact that the child they travel with is Gravitt's." 

The Illusionist stood up. "Give me my money back. The woman was married to Gravitt's brother." 

Roland flashed his best smile as he leaned back in his chair. "I knew Ziggratt his entire life and did much business with his city when their mines were producing. I can say with one hundred percent certainty that Gravitt was an only child. Whoever told you otherwise is lying." 

Gregory sank back into his chair, now feeling sick to his stomach at this information. Something must be done if Sabre and her companion were indeed slaves. And the child…what about that sweet little boy? 

He knew Roland was going to exploit this for all it was worth, but still tried to compose a well-practiced hardened look of boredom. "That's all interesting, but it does me no good. Tell me of a star sapphire—one that closely resembles your work." 

The leather-faced man waved a dismissive hand. "If I ever made a sale of such a rarity, I don't remember it." 

The Illusionist raised his hands into a casting gesture, the black color of his aura forming between them. "I thought we were done playing games, Roland." 

With a defeated sigh the other conceded. "Yes. I sold him one. They aren't natural you know, and I only carry the best. Those who were making cheap imitations long since stopped trying." 

Gregory raised an eyebrow wrought with irritation. "A beautiful sales pitch, but I want to know when he bought it and what spell you affixed to it." 

"He bought it from me last December, in some forgettable Prairie Town. He was very specific that no magic be attached to it." 

"No magic? I find that difficult to believe, you never make anything without leaving at least a small tag within it so you can trace it, and it's actions. Where did you get the metal for it?" 

Roland gave a theatrical sigh at Gregory's litany, choosing not to respond to his statement but to answer his direct question. "Provided by the buyer, about six months prior." 

"What sort of metal was it?" 

"I'm not sure. I've never worked with it before, but it was quite malleable. It's a shame I haven't been able to find more of it." 

Gregory smirked as he pulled Artie's canister from his robe. "This is the same metal, then?" 

Roland's eyes lit up as he reached for the object. "Yes. Are you willing to sell it? I can offer you a very handsome price." 

"No," was the cold response. "I want you to tell me all you can about it." 

"In exchange for it?" 

"Minus the stones within it, perhaps." 

"Very well," Roland said as he took a magnifying glass from his pocket. "The metal is indeed whatever it was that Gravitt brought me last time, though the workmanship on this is exceptional, I will have to ask him where he…" He glanced up at Gregory's stony expression and let that line of thought go. Not hearing a demand that he not, he opened the canister and poured the green stones out, and began examining one under the glass. "These have been cut from a much larger stone, and they are extraordinarily clear of any defects. I've never seen anything like them." 

"Are the runes on the container familiar to you?" 

Still excited at the possibility of retaining the fabulous metal, Roland prattled on with no hesitation. "No, but I know of only one person who could have created such a flawless piece of work. I was fortunate to have met him once and was able to admire his ability with magic and machine." 

Gregory's eyes narrowed. "His name?" 

"Taben." 

****** 

"Gregory, this is the most deceitful thing I've ever known you to do!" The arrogant healer protested as the two of them crossed through the paths of late afternoon light shining into the Guild's windows. 

A smirk crossed the old man's face as he glanced at the woman walking next to him. "You give me far too much credit, Robin." 

"Indeed. But I can't believe I let you talk me into this. I don't like being dishonest, you know." 

He turned to look at her, "Neither do I, but we have little choice in the matter at this point, especially now that we know who made those things." He frowned before finishing; "I know it goes against both our ways, but sometimes we must deceive those we wish to help, if only for a short period." 

The two Council members stopped at their destination and nodded to the pair of guards who flanked the opulent door to Mia's office. Without a word, one of the sentries disappeared inside and returned a moment later to offer entrance to the elders. Gregory stepped forward, and curled his fingers around the box he was carrying. A whispered prayer crossed his lips as he hoped the plan would not fail. _Linny, please let this work. It's your granddaughter we want to save_. 

Robin led the way into the office where they found the Guildmaster sitting at her desk, frowning over some piece of paper. She nodded to them and rose to her feet, but the brilliant smile she was famous for greeting people with did not appear. Instead she glared at them and said coldly, "What is it you require, Masters Robin and Gregory?" 

The Illusionist bowed, "Just a moment of your time, Majesty." 

Mia crossed her arms over her chest in a most unattractive manner. "Granted." 

Robin bowed again, "We have something for you, Majesty." 

The young woman cocked an eyebrow. "Well, what is it?" 

Gregory opened the box bearing the Guildmaster's seal as reverently as he possibly could, and held the sparkling contents out such that the woman could see them. "The crown jewels of the Ausa family, Majesty. By tradition they are worn only on occasion of major importance. We thought you would want them for the ceremony tomorrow." 

Mia slowly reached into the box and lifted out the exquisite tiara and examined it closely. Gregory winced as he saw her face cloud with mistrust. 

Robin supplied a quick remedy to the woman's suspicion. "We thought you might want to wear them today, to get used to the weight. They are rather heavy." 

The reply from the small woman was quiet, almost pensive as she replaced the crown into the container and deferentially lifted the necklace out for scrutiny. "My mother told me of these, but I never saw them for myself. I thought they might have been destroyed in the Fall." 

"They are kept safe and secure and taken out for only special occasions," Robin said, obviously irritated that she had to repeat herself. "They are _very_ carefully protected." 

Gregory was almost done with the job Nash had given him to do, but it was still too early to celebrate. He handed the box to Robin and summoned his most silken voice. "Allow me to put the necklace on you, Majesty. If it is too long or too tight, we can have it resized tonight." 

Mia nodded, still transfixed at the beauty of the gems. Gregory smiled as he removed the troublesome blue jewel that she wore and slipped it into his robe pocket. In another gentle motion, he placed the golden necklace around her neck and fastened it. Almost instantly, the woman's shoulders sank and she leaned forward to grasp her forehead. 

"Are you all right, Majesty?" Asked Robin as Gregory caught the Guildmaster in his arms. 

Mia straightened herself up as best she could, but was still leaning on the Illusionist for support. "Yes. I think so. My head hurts, and I am suddenly very tired." 

"You've been working extraordinarily hard, Majesty," Gregory said as he steadied her. "Perhaps you should rest before the rehearsal tonight?" 

"Yes," Mia whispered as her eyes fluttered in exhaustion. "I think I shall." 

The healer waved a hand bathed in her soft blue aura at the young woman, and then grinned at Gregory as if to say that their job was done. Relieved, the Illusionist audibly sighed, and he and Robin escorted Mia to her rooms for a much needed nap. 

****** 

Gregory was so eager to leave Mia's suite with the horrid object in his pocket that he almost teleported Robin and himself out. Instead, hoping not to raise any suspicion, the two conspirators walked calmly back to his room after seeing that Mia was safely in her bedroom and under careful guard. Waiting there, as planned, was a very nervous Nash. 

The Illusionist stared out the window for a moment, contemplating what, if anything, to tell Nash about Roland's information on Sabre. While Gregory knew the merchant to be devious, he still believed that all of it was true. Times were troubling as it was, and he didn't want to upset Nash with simple rumors. With a sigh, he decided not to divulge until he had a moment to ask the Tribal girl her side of the story. 

"You're sure she's all right?" The young man demanded rather than questioned of the healer. 

"Yes, I checked her just as we left." 

"But if what Gregory learned is true, and Taben really made those canisters—" 

Robin cut him off, her tone more exasperated than usual. "We'll need to remain calm and just wait for Mia to sleep off the effects of that necklace. We need our Guildmaster, and we need not speak of Taben in public. The last thing we want to do is panic everyone." 

"What about the headache and the sudden exhaustion?" Asked Gregory, as he grounded himself into the current conversation. 

"It was probably a side effect of that thing," Robin said as she pointed to the silver and blue necklace that Gregory had placed on his desk. "Or of removing it. You just can't take off some magically cursed stone and not expect at least some sort of reaction. We were fortunate that it wasn't worse." 

"So you don't think there was any permanent damage?" Nash asked, agitation still weaving through his voice. 

"Highly unlikely, but I'll have to give her a full exam to be sure, and right now she needs rest, so that will have to wait." 

Gregory was surprised to see the brusque woman put a hand on his son's shoulder. Somehow Robin's undeniably efficient bedside manner broke for that moment. "I will do my best work. She will be fine in the long run. Don't worry yourself with it." Then, as if realizing she had shown some shred of humanity to another, she pulled her hand back and added quickly, "I am impressed that you came up with this scheme, but I hope you didn't waste too much of the treasury's money on those jewels." 

"No," Nash said quietly as he moved away from the woman. "I didn't spend any of the treasury's money. I sold some paintings. That's all." 

Robin tented her fingers, "Paintings from the treasury? I'm surprised that Alastair let you near what little remains from our collection." 

The young mage glared at her. "I didn't involve Alastair. I sold some I had done on my own. There were plenty of people willing to buy them at the festival." 

Gregory added, "If you've never seen his work, Master Robin, then you have deprived yourself a rare treat. It's amazingly good, and a shame that he hasn't shared it with more of us." 

Nash looked away; he was embarrassed. A moment later he said softly, "I'm going to go find out how Artie is doing. I'm hoping she hasn't placed many of those canisters." 

Gregory gave him a nod, "She had four up this afternoon, but then Alastair called Mia's guards back in, so she lost some man power." 

"Perfect," Nash said. "Plus, she has to set up the stage for tonight. I'll go make sure she remembers that, and I'll tell her to take her time with it." 

"Good idea. That should buy us some much needed time." 

"Yes," Nash replied as he headed towards the door. "That and the reception tomorrow will give us at least twenty four hours before another one of those damn things goes up." 

Gregory nodded to his son in agreement and then grinned. "Good luck. You know Artie can be a handful when she's got a hundred things to do." 

"Do I ever!" Nash said with a smirk as he excused himself from the room. 

Robin watched the door close and then picked up the object that had caused them all so much grief. "So are we going to destroy it?" 

"No," Gregory responded as he took the necklace from her and placed it in his desk drawer. "We have much to learn from it. I also want Alastair to look at it. He supposedly affixed a protection spell. I'm beginning to wonder if the necklace was somehow made to backfire on him when he did so. Someone would have to know Alastair's skill, and how he tends to cast his spells in order to capture it so accurately. And that would mean that our friends Gravitt and Taben have someone working within our ranks." 

"Yes. Do show it to him, and Tamora as well." 

"I'll take care of it tonight, after the rehearsal. Speaking of which, we have some planning to do for that." 

Robin nodded reluctantly as she sat on the small couch. "I suppose we have to do this, don't we?" 

"Don't make it sound like you're making preparations for a funeral, my dear." Gregory teased as he set paper, pen and ink on the small table in front of the sofa. 

"I might as well be, if half our fears are justified and our survival rests in the hands of your…son." 

"I find your insults to my family quite rude and uncalled for, Master Robin," he growled. 

"Of course you do. But answer me this, Gregory: Are you only supporting Nash because your family lost its chance to claim the position of Premier when you declined it?" 

"No," was the harsh reply as he took a seat next to her, but didn't give her the honor of eye contact. "I find your audacity at bringing up a history you are absolutely ignorant about quite heinous." 

Robin seemed to almost laugh at him, not taking the obvious pain in his voice at face value. "Even for you those are very large words. And my concerns weren't meant to be hurtful, but they are well founded and you know it, since we both know of your past. Or do we?" The woman suddenly began to look at ageless mage with a different expression on her face, one of curiosity rather than the usual irritation. 

"A fact I do not wish to discuss," Gregory said flatly. 

Still she pushed him, her tone full of rancor. "I can see why. You made a great mistake—one you truly regret—and now you are trying to live your life through another. It is a sad state of affairs, my dear comrade." 

He leaned over to her, pressing his nose almost up to hers, as he felt his last thread of patience snap. "Silence, Robin! I could bring up some of your exploits! I remember a pretty little blonde girl sitting in my classroom who had her eye on an attractive young man. I remember a romance blossoming between the two, and then the boy apprentice decided that while he enjoyed this young lady's company, he preferred the company of a prettier, much more personable girl—" 

"You've made your point," Robin said dejectedly as she cut him off. 

Gregory reached over and put one of his hands on hers, actually feeling sorry for the woman. "I know, and I shouldn't have. No harm meant, Robin. Now, let's get on with business, shall we?" 

****** 

Sunsets always held a special meaning for Gregory, and today was no exception. Although the Illusionist knew the rehearsal would be starting in a little less than an hour, he indulged himself with standing on the roof of the Guild and watching as the sky painted itself before embracing the night. While the endless cycle of death to life each day held an intangible fascination to him, it also was also one of the things he had shared with someone not too long ago. _It's all going to work out, Linny. Your city will be what it once was, that was what I promised you. _A slight grin crossed his face as he whispered, "If only you could offer me some guidance on how to parent hard-headed little boys."

As the last streaks of gold and crimson washed themselves across the massive palette, the ageless mage spread his hands in front of his waist and with a small wave created two perfect tiger lilies. Stooping down, he placed them at his feet, just as he always did when he would come here. A gentle smile crossed his lips as he arranged them such that one was crossing over the other. As he stood up, he found the thought he clung to everyday—something she had told him once. _Flowers die, candles go out, but as long as the heart remembers, love is forever._

Gregory smiled once again as he glanced back up into the fading light of the horizon. "I must leave you now, Linny. I have someone I must deal with, although I assure you that your company is much preferred to that of my obstinate son." He hesitated on that last word, but winked at the distance nonetheless. "That boy drives me all but insane, but your granddaughter has taken a liking to him, for Althena-knows-what reason." As he felt her response within his heart, he laughed, and then bowed before pressing his palms together. In an instant he felt himself become nothing, and subsequently reappeared in front of the Manor, where the rest of the Faculty had gathered for practice of tomorrow's ceremony. 

* * *

Chapter Fifteen | Index | Chapter Seventeen


	18. Chapter Seventeen

_**Author's Note:**_

It has been more than ten years since I started writing "Equation." In this time, I've grown a lot as a person and a writer. Looking back on this story, I realize there is tons of room for improvement. And, just having rediscovered my love for Lunar after playing the PSP remake, I have decided to rewrite it. While some scenes may survive the rewrite and restructure, most will be fresh because I believe I can do a much better job that I did all those years ago. I intend to do a major clean up on dialogue, descriptions, characterizations, plot, pacing and all the other issues I have with "Equation." The title also needs a change and _**"Rise from Ashes"**_ seems appropriate for so many reasons, my own decision to rewrite this thing after such a long time only one of them.

The prologue and first chapter are nearly ready for publication. I hope to have them up soon. In the meantime, have some Equation-universe drabbles (15 minute fics) written for specific requests during Livejournal writing challenges.

Thank you for reading all these years and I hope "Equation v2.0" is to your liking.

See you soon, in Vane...

-K

* * *

_**For Aoshi: Mia and Nash, A Night in the Illusion Forest**_

No matter how many nights they camped, Nash never complained. Mia would often wish for her bed in the guild manor, but not him. He seemed strangely content with sleeping outdoors but when she asked about it, he shrugged it off.

The night they slept in the forest near Pao, she found herself looking up at the sky. Beyond the tops of the trees, beyond the glow of the Blue Star, something caught her eye. She followed it as it wandered slowly across the sky, amazed at whatever it was.

"Couldn't sleep?" Nash asked from behind her.

"No, and neither could you, I see."

He smiled at her.

"I like this forest," she said. "It doesn't feel dangerous."

"It's not," he replied with a strange degree of assurance. "Everything here is an illusion."

She brushed her hand against his. "You know a lot about it."

"I read about it," he stammered, his eyes widening as she touched him.

"We should get some sleep," she said, standing up. "Goodnight, Nash."

"Goodnight, Mia."

* * *

_**For Barrelgoddess: Jess and Kyle, Lover's Quarrell**_

"Jess..." Kyle started to say before dodging a glass headed for his head.

"Don't 'Jess' me, you dumb bastard!" she shouted back. "I saw her with you!"

"But we were just talking," he protested, and was too slow to avoid being hit with a wooden dish.

"Talking? You can't talk with your tongue down her throat!"

"Well..."

"Well?" Jess seethed, glancing up over the rough bar in Nanza's hideout. "Well is all you can say about it?"

"I'm sorry, Jess."

"You're always sorry! This is it, Kyle."

"Jess..."

She smacked him with the back of her hand. "I'm leaving, Kyle."

"But...Jess..."

He watched her leave, and then reached for another glass of ale.

* * *

_**Inspired by the song, "Take Another Road" for Yoshimars**_

"Kyle!" Jessica called. "Where the hell are we?"

"North of Meribia!" he replied.

"I know that you dumb bastard," she snorted. "But where?"

He shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

"Yes, it does because if I'm not home for supper my father will throw me in jail and with my dad that's not an idle threat!"

"Jail isn't so bad," Kyle teased. "You might learn a thing or two."

"Like how to be a drunken thief like you?"

"I'm NOT a thief," he said, crossing his arms over his chest and pretending to be offended. "I'm a wealth redistrubition specialist."

She shook her head. "Whatever. Just...try and make an honest living when we get back-IF we get back."

"Anything for you, Sweetcheeks. By the way...the sign there says we go left to go to Meribia."

"Thank goodness."

* * *

_**Gregory and Relina, with the song "Hello" for Yoshimars**_

He knew it was forbidden by the Goddess, by the very canons he was raised by and even by the laws of Vane, but at that very moment, he didn't care. Moments before, her kiss had grown deeper and her hands had found the buttons on his robe, pulling it off. She smiled coyly, waiting for him to do the same, and he did, casting away with it any chance of turning back.

His fingers ambled along her breasts, causing her to sigh contentedly. He smiled, kissing her neck as he let his hands wander further along her body. She responded, clumsily reaching towards his belt as she whispered his name.

He drew a ragged breath as she pulled him towards her bed, the back of his mind praying that Althena never found out and the rest of him not giving a damn if she did.

* * *

**_Mia and Nash, with the song "Southern Cross" for Iandianajones_**

The boat heaved right and left all night, making the trip a dizzying experience for all on board. Mia, particularly, did not do well with this sort of travel. She spent most of the night up on deck, clutching the rail and trying to keep herself from vomiting.

Nash had gone to check on her three or four times, but each time she had sent him away. The last time he'd been up there, she insisted she was fine, but he knew better. But, he also knew better than to bother her when she wanted to be left alone. Resigned to remain in their cabin, he busied himself with reading a book, hoping that her sickness would pass and she would return to bed.

* * *

**_Nash, with the color silver for el_regrs_**

(I couldn't get past the "silver = unit of currency"...sorry xP )

Nash counted the silver in the palm of his hand and sighed. He was still short. Looking at the annoyed merchant, he said, "Come on, I need this as a birthday present for Majesty Mia!"

The surly shopkeep sneered at him. "And you think by giving her some piece of jewelry she'll take a liking to you?"

Nash blushed. "Well..."

"You're an apprentice. Mia has more mature men on her mind."

"Like who?" Nash asked, more harshly than intended.

"I heard from a very reliable source that she has a serious interested in one of her teachers."

Nash paled. "No way."

"It's true. But, since you're such a desperate specimen, I'll sell you the gem."

"Thank you!" Nash said, trying to contain his excitement. Now Mia had to notice him.

As he walked back to the Guild Manor he spotted her sitting on a bench reading a book. Trying not to grin too wide, he walked towards her and offered the gift.

"Oh, Nash, its lovely."

He smiled broadly. His plan had worked. All those hours doing extra chores for Ghaleon to earn some money had paid off!

"...but Master Gregory gave me this last year."

"I'll take it back," he said, defeated.

She gave him a small smile. "No, I like this one better."

* * *

**_Nash and Mia, with tea, for Yoshimars_**

Mia had spent most of the day pouring over the backlog of documents on her desk. She must have lost track of the time, because before she knew it one of the apprentices was in front of her asking if she would like tea that afternoon. With a smile she accepted the offer and as the girl left to prepare the tray, turned back to her work.

Twenty minutes or so later there was a knock on her office door. "Come in," she called as she signed yet another purchase agreement.

The door creaked open and she glanced up to see Nash, carrying the tea service. "Time for a break, wouldn't you say?" he asked with slight grin.

She stretched and stood, then walked over and gave him a tight embrace. "Long day, but I've missed you."

He hugged her as best he could, still balancing the tray. "Seems that the paperwork demons are bothering you again," he teased, moving some scattered papers to set the tea service down on the desk.

She laughed. "Its impossible. I can stay up all night to finish the pile but it will just be back in the morning."

"I stand corrected," he said with a wink. "Regenerating paperwork demons."

She seized his hands before they could make work of pouring the tea and drew him towards her. Resting her head on his chest she closed her eyes and relaxed for the first time all day.

* * *

_**Ghaleon and the line "he did it" for Iandianajones**_

Lemia Ausa was furious. After traveling all over the world with men, she thought she'd figured them out. Unfortunately, Lemia was quite wrong.

She was in a tavern watching as Dyne and Mel took part in a contest to see who could consume the most alcohol. Rolling her eyes at their immaturity she turned back to her tea and propped her chin up on her hand.

Ghaleon slid into the chair opposite her. "Their behavior is as I expected."

"You were right. We shouldn't have come here."

"Shall we leave then?"

Lemia sighed. "We can't leave them and I'm afraid to interrupt them. No telling what they'll do when they're drunk."

"Not to worry, Lemia. I'll get them. Go wait outside."

With a nod to her trusted friend, she did as he had asked.

Standing outside the tavern, she waited. Suddenly, Dyne came flying out the door, followed by Mel. As they hit the ground, they both groaned.

Ghaleon appeared next to her and she said, "I see you enlisted the help of the tavernkeeper."

The strange man said nothing.

Mel lifted his head-barely. "Are you daft, girl? HE did it!"

Lemia glanced sideways at Ghaleon. "Magic? But I didn't sense it."

"Let's just go," was the only reply he offered.

* * *

**_For yoshimars: Nash, Kyle and Alex with the line "that exciting hand-holding phase"_**

"So, Nash, are you out of that exciting hand-holding phase yet?" Kyle snickered as he raised his glass.

The magician just sighed. "We're moving slow."

"If you went any slower, it'd be backwards," Kyle said.

"Shut up."

Alex decided to change the subject. "How is the rebuilding of Vane coming?"

"Rather well, all things considered."

"All things considered?"

Kyle snorted, "Meaning, he's not getting laid."

"SHUT UP!" Nash shouted.

Alex had had enough of Kyle's incessant boasting about his sex-life and the derision of others for the lack of theirs. In an even voice he said, "You know Kyle, those that talk about it the most get it the least."

* * *

**For ****mithrigil****, prompt of "Tango"**

Jealousy was not a feeling Mia was wholly familiar with and certainly not one she liked. Still, as her eyes followed the couple on the dance floor she could help but feel her ire rising. It had been her own idea, she reminded herself, her jaw clenching slightly, to invite the Festival visitors to play music from their homelands. With a glance to night sky she wished for a sudden downpour to chase the merrymakers away-or at least just two of them.

The redhead that had been keeping Nash's attention for the past week had once again managed to capture it. The two of them followed the beats of the Tribal music with such precision she wondered if they had rehearsed it. Mia narrowed her eyes as the dance finished and a round of applause sounded from the onlookers. With a sigh, she took another sip of her wine and turned her attention to the other guests seated at her table.


End file.
